


The Magic You So Despise

by AngelQueen



Series: If I Die Young (Ygraine Lives) [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Big Bang Challenge, Canon Het Relationship, Child Neglect, Community: paperlegends, Corporal Punishment, F/M, Gen, Magic, Mother-Son Relationship, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 61,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Ygraine Pendragon lives, all is not golden. In a world where Arthur Pendragon grows up with two parents, life is not easier. In a world where Morgana of Cornwall grows up never fearing Uther Pendragon, her life is still a lonely one. In a world where magic is not banned, there is still the prejudice and suspicions of kings to contend with. In a world where Merlin Emrys is born the second son of Camelot, the weight of destiny is no less debilitating. There are no easy answers, no simple, well-traveled paths to walk. A pre-series AU, first story in a series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNINGS:** Corporal punishment of children, violence against a child
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> **Update as of August 22, 2015:** Many have expressed interest in a sequel to this story, so I'm leaving this note for any future readers. For the moment, the sequel is on indefinite hold. I truly hope to come back to write more for this 'verse, because there is so much to tell, but it will not be appearing any time soon. I would like to thank everyone for their continued interest in this 'verse. It was a true labor of love. 

A little boy of seven winters sat snuggled beneath the thick coverlet of his bed with an impatient expression on his round face. This expression did not flicker as the door was thrust open, revealing an old, bent figure. “You’re late, Grandfather,” the boy promptly pointed out.

The old man snorted as he shuffled into the room, leaning heavily on his cane as he walked. “No such thing as late at my age, my boy.” He crossed the large room at a slow, but steady pace, and then settled into the chair that sat next to the boy’s bed.

“So,” the old man said, “you want your story, do you?”

The boy’s only response was to roll his eyes.

The old man raised an eyebrow. “I suggest you watch yourself, young man. I’m not too old to put you over my knee, you know,” he warned him sternly. “No matter what your grandmother says. Mind your manners.”

This admonishment seemed to work, as a look of contrition crossed the boy’s features. “I’m sorry, Grandfather,” he apologized. “May I please have my story?”

The grandfather held his gaze for several long moments, and then nodded. “Yes, you may.” Satisfied, he leaned back. “Tonight, I thought I’d tell you about the Pendragons.”

The boy perked up, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “King Arthur? And his knights? And -”

“Not exactly, my boy,” his grandfather cut him off. “This story starts with Arthur’s father, King Uther, and his mother, Queen Ygraine. And his brother, Merlin.”

The boy gaped at his grandfather incredulously. “That’s silly, Grandfather. Merlin was Arthur’s wizard, not his brother!”

The old man chuckled. “So sure of that, are you? Just sit back and listen, my boy. You might learn something.”

The child looked as though he might protest at first, but then sighed and did as he was told. Once he was settled again, his grandfather continued. “King Uther and Queen Ygraine were married for several years, but there was never any sign of a child, an heir for Camelot. It was a very sad time for them both. The Queen so desperately wished to fulfill her duty to Camelot, and she wanted to be a mother too. The king, though he never told her, was more and more being urged to set his queen aside and marry a woman who might prove more fertile than her. But Uther refused, for although his wife was blamed for their lack of children, he could not be certain that she was the one who was responsible and not him. Not then, anyway.”

“Queen Ygraine couldn’t have babies?”

The old man shook his head. “It was thought so for some time. She and the king were married for some five years before she knew she carried a child. But I get ahead of myself.” Straightening in his chair, he continued. “During the summer of the fourth year after his marriage, Camelot was at war with its neighbor, Caerleon. The king sent his best general, Lord Gorlois, to head the troops, since he was the finest and bravest warrior of their generation, and was also Uther’s most trusted friend. Gorlois, however, worried for the safety of his wife, the Lady Vivienne, since their lands were close to the border with Caerleon, so he sent her to reside in Camelot, where it was much safer. However, during that autumn, the king and Lady Vivienne did something that many people would consider horrible.”

“What?” the boy asked, obviously curious despite his earlier skepticism.

The old man leaned forward. “They made a baby together, despite them being married to other people…”

* * *

Uther stared at the letter that lay on his desk in front of him, shocked speechless. The missive had arrived in the midst of a thick packet of letters, and had looked completely indistinguishable from all the others, but the contents, oh, the _contents_ …

Pregnant. Vivienne was _pregnant_. About four months along, by her estimates and by those belonging to the midwife Vivienne had employed. 

Vivienne had been in Camelot four months ago. Gorlois had escorted her there before riding off to lead his wing of the army against Caerleon, but that had been _seven_ months ago.

Uther closed his eyes, remembering that night, that one night. It had been after a particularly frustrating council session, where, yet again, a delegation of nobles had offered up the private petition that he set aside his wife and remarry, for the sake of the succession. He had been married to Ygraine for over four years, and still there was no sign of a child, an heir to secure Camelot’s future. Much as they admired and respected the queen, the succession had to take precedence over everything.

It had been a very frustrating meeting. He had been reduced to making excuses, reminding them that it was no simple thing to just ‘cast off’ Ygraine. She had been his wife for over four years, so there was no way to simply annul the marriage by claiming non-consummation. What was more, if he did set Ygraine aside, he would undoubtedly offend her brothers. Agravaine and Tristan de Bois were both influential men in their own right, being the head and heir of one of Camelot’s oldest noble families. Their backing had proved vital in Uther claiming the throne, and they had been more than willing to bind their fortunes to his by permitting him to marry their sister. To have her thrown off, sent back to them in shame, would certainly arouse their ire. Tristan, in particular, was infamous for both his temper and his devotion to Ygraine, his twin. Uther had no desire to face him and Agravaine on the battlefield. He had to be certain that it was the only recourse before proceeding. At least, that was what he told his nobles. He might be exaggerating a little bit, since he was fairly certain that Agravaine and Tristan would be capable of looking at the bigger picture.

True, it would hurt the pride of everyone involved if Ygraine was disavowed, but it was a forgone fact that Uther, the first in a new line of kings, _needed_ an heir. If his wife was thought to be unable to conceive, then she _must_ step aside for a woman who could. Ygraine, Uther was certain, could understand that, and so could her brothers. However, Uther knew that even if they could see the need to act for the greater good, there would be a definite cooling of his relationship with the house of de Bois, something he couldn’t afford very well at all. Tristan, in particular, given that he was a border lord. The last thing he needed was a foreign king making overtures to a man who had had his sister shamed by Camelot’s king.

Especially if it turned out that Ygraine wasn’t the problem at all.

Nonetheless, after placating the nobles - for the moment - Uther had left the room furious, if only at himself. He knew he was placing his own feelings and desires ahead of his duty to his kingdom. Camelot _needed_ an heir. He had stormed through the corridors, his blood rushing through his veins like he was in the midst of a battle again. He had not known what he’d intended as he’d stomped through the citadel, but he was certain that he had _not_ intended to end up in Vivienne’s bed. 

But he had. And this was the result. A child. _His_ child.

He had been reluctant to set Ygraine aside because he loved her, of course, but also because although everyone else seemed content to blame his childlessness on his wife, Uther had not been entirely certain that the problem lay with her. Though it was not widely known to outsiders, there was a history in his family of men being incapable of fathering children. His grandfather had had two brothers, and neither of them had given their wives any children, and they’d both had multiple spouses. His grandfather’s sister had also been barren.

This letter, though, written from the wilds of Gorlois’ lands, put the mystery to bed. Vivienne was carrying his child. He _was_ capable of siring a child on a woman.

A woman.

Uther’s eyes flew open. What was he to tell _Ygraine_?

* * *

“That was wrong of them,” the boy pointed out. “I once heard Ma say that she’d rip Da to pieces if he ever looked twice at Lady Lilith. Is that like what the king and Lady Vivienne did?”

The grandfather looked faintly amused and he nodded. “Something similar, yes.” Clearing his throat, he continued his narrative. “Uther was both delighted and disturbed over the new of Vivienne’s pregnancy. He had so longed for a child of his own, and now he had proof that he could have children, so the problem seemed to be on his wife’s end. However, he could not bear the thought of giving Ygraine up. In lieu of Ygraine having a baby, Vivienne’s child seemed to be the best solution to all of their problems.

“Fate, however,” the grandfather added with a deep, impressive tone, “had other plans.”

* * *

Uther knew it had to be done and, truthfully, he _wanted_ to do it. It was the only way that would ensure that Ygraine could maintain her position as his wife and queen, while also safeguarding Camelot’s succession. He knew it would cause problems, would be something of a scandal, but, in the long run, it was for the greater good.

He was going to claim Vivienne’s child, the one that would make its entrance into the world within the next two months. 

Ygraine would be hurt terribly by the admission of his and Vivienne’s tryst, no matter how brief it was. Vivienne’s reputation would be forever tarnished, and she would lose custody of her baby. Gorlois would be exposed as a cuckold. Uther regretted all of this, but it was the only way he could see for them to go forward. Ygraine was barren; if she had been able to bear a child, surely there would have been some sign of it by now. If he didn’t claim Vivienne’s baby, there would never be an heir for Camelot so long as Uther remained tied to Ygraine. Short of putting her aside, Vivienne’s child was the only conceivable heir Uther would ever have. 

The sunlight poured in through the windows of the corridor as Uther strode along it, determinedly making his way toward his wife’s chambers. Ygraine had been feeling under the weather the past few days, and had remained sequestered while summoning Alice and Gaius to examine her. No doubt they would have finished by now, and since Uther had not received any urgent summons to Ygraine’s side, he was assuming that it was some minor, passing ailment that would be gone soon enough. Still, Ygraine didn’t seem inclined to move from her chambers today, which gave him the perfect opportunity to inform her of his plans in some privacy.

Coming to a halt at the door that led to Ygraine’s chambers, Uther took a deep, steadying breath before raising his hand to rap his knuckles on the door. Barely a moment passed when the door was opened, revealing Ygraine’s maid. The girl curtsied respectfully and stepped aside, allowing Uther to enter. He glanced around the room, searching for some sign of his wife.

“Forgive me, Sire,” the maid spoke up from behind him. “Her Majesty is lying down, but she is awake.”

Nodding, Uther waved his hand dismissively, ushering her out. He then turned toward the connecting room to the main area, where Ygraine’s bed resided. As he approached, he took in his wife’s form. She was lying on her side, her back to him. Her form, he noticed, was a bit thicker, fuller than it normally was. Strange. “My love?” he called softly.

She jerked, clearly a bit startled by his voice, but then rolled over to face him. “Uther,” she replied. She stared him, her lovely blue eyes bright against her pale face. Slowly, she smiled and held out her hand to him, which he took as he sat down. “I have the most wonderful news,” she breathed.

He lifted her hand, pressing an absent kiss to the back. “What news?”

In that moment, her eyes appeared to grow even bluer, and her smile even brighter. “You are going to be a father.”

For a heart stopping moment, Uther panicked, thinking that his wife somehow already knew of what he had come to tell her. He opened his mouth, but could say nothing. Then, before he could think of something, _anything_ to say, Ygraine guided his hand down to rest on her abdomen.

It only took another moment for Uther to understand what she was telling him.

* * *

“Was the king very happy that the queen was to have a baby?” the boy asked.

For a brief moment, the grandfather didn’t answer, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. “Happy?” he finally replied, “Yes, he was happy. As I said, he had wanted a child of his own for a long time, as had Queen Ygraine. So, yes, he was happy. And yet,” he added, “he could not help but feel sad. If the Queen was to bear a child, then Uther couldn’t afford to recognize Vivienne’s child. For one, it would cause great distress to Ygraine, and the physicians warned him against any upset for the sake of her health. What’s more, if both children turned out to be boys, it could cause a serious succession crisis.”

The boy nodded slowly. “The Queen’s son should be the heir, but if the King recognized his other son, then he’d be first in line.” He blushed under the raised eyebrow of his grandfather, and then puffed out his chest. “I learned about the succession from my tutor months ago,” he said proudly.

“Indeed? Well, excellent,” the older man complimented. “I’m glad to see that your education has been fruitful.” Clearing his throat, he continued the story. “Faced with these facts, Uther felt he had no choice but to remain silent on the subject of his child with Vivienne, and not long after he learned of Ygraine’s pregnancy, Vivienne gave birth to a little girl, who was called Morgana. Vivienne died shortly thereafter of illness, but Morgana thrived, and was doted upon by Gorlois, even if the man was aware that she was not of his get.”

“That was nice of him,” the boy commented.

“Nice, yes,” the grandfather agreed. “Gorlois so loved Morgana that I suspect that if history could have remembered him only as a doting father and recalled none of his many military successes, he would have been well satisfied. His affection did ease Uther’s mind somewhat, though he still greatly envied Gorlois.

“Morgana was born in the summer, and Ygraine’s pregnancy progressed into the autumn. Around the time autumnal equinox, Ygraine went into labor. It was a difficult birth, lasting close to three days. The physicians, even when aided by Mistress Alice, one of the foremost healers of the day, were beginning to despair, when the child finally came into the world.”

The boy gave him an excited look. “Arthur!”

“Yes, Arthur.”

* * *

Uther took a long, deep drink from his goblet. The alcohol burned as it went down, but he ignored it, instead staring out over the lower town. It seemed to him that every house was lit by a thousand candles, and even high in the citadel, he could hear the joyous calls and shouts in the streets. 

The people were clearly happy to celebrate having an heir to the throne at long last. Uther just wished he could join them.

He was delighted in his new son, of course. There was no cause for disappointment as far as his health was concerned. Alice had declared him hale and healthy, much to everyone’s relief, and stated that he seemed not to have suffered any ill effects from his mother’s protracted labor. The boy’s appearance was rather off-putting, Uther admitted, with his… squashed appearance, but when he’d asked Alice about it, she had merely smiled and assured him that such things were temporary. “Give him time, Sire,” she’d told him. “His features will smooth out soon enough and he’ll be quite the handsome little prince.”

Uther trusted Alice’s expertise in this matter, but he still couldn’t help but compare his newborn son to the stories Gorlois had shared about Morgana. He’d never said anything about _her_ appearing all red and squashed and such. No, according to him, Morgana had looked like a chubby little angel from the beginning. Arthur looked like anything but.

And that wasn’t all that bothered him. Uther was also worried deeply for Ygraine. The birth had been excruciatingly difficult for her. Uther hadn’t been present, of course, but had been just outside of her chambers, waiting with growing terror as he listened to his wife’s cries grow progressively weaker. When the birth finally ended and he had been allowed inside, Uther had been shocked by the state of his wife. Her hair had hung limply around her face, her skin was almost grey with exhaustion, and her eyes dull and almost lifeless.

It had been perhaps even more horrifying than listening to her earlier screams. 

Nor had his subsequent discussions with Gaius reassured him. His old friend had been grave in sharing his report.

“Her Majesty’s health is very fragile, Sire, and is likely to be for some time,” the physician had stated. “Though she will eventually recover, it is vital that she not be subjected to any further serious strains on her body.” The older man hesitated, and then continued, “I must recommend that she not bear any more children for at least the next three years, perhaps longer.”

It was a hard thing to hear, but ultimately Uther had agreed. He had the heir that was so vital to his kingdom’s future security. There was no need for any more children, to be honest. Arthur would be guarded carefully against illness and other threats.

He had his family.

* * *

The boy wrinkled his nose. “The king was disappointed because of how Arthur _looked_?”

His grandfather chuckled. “Yes, initially. But babies generally looked the way Arthur did when he was born, and no matter what Uther imagined from Gorlois’ stories, Morgana likely looked that way too.”

The boy nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. “Emilia looked like a wrinkled fruit when she was born.”

“Yes, and then she looked like a cherub shortly after.”

There was a moment of silence, and then the boy finally shrugged. “So, if the king didn’t want to have any more children, how can Merlin be Arthur’s brother?”

The older man snorted faintly. “The king may have decided that he didn’t want any more children, my boy, but nature will run its course when certain things happen.”

“You mean when a husband lies with his wife?” At his grandfather’s sharp look, the boy grinned unrepentantly. “The servants can’t watch their language all the time, ‘specially if they don’t know I’m listening!”

The grandfather sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to have a chat with them about that, then, but yes. The king attempted to take precautions, but nonetheless, Queen Ygraine became pregnant again. She gave birth just a couple of months after the first anniversary of Arthur’s birth…”

* * *

Snow poured down from the sky in a torrent, buffeted by the winds. Winter had Camelot in its icy grip.

Uther watched the snow blanket the courtyard outside, trying but failing not to hear Ygraine’s every groan and cry coming from inside her chambers just a few feet away. He had received the occasional report from Gaius or Alice, both of them reassuring him that all was going well, but he could barely believe it. He couldn’t make himself believe that his wife’s ordeal was passing far more quickly than it had the first time. He couldn’t believe that her pain was less.

He could only remember Gaius’ stern warnings against Ygraine bearing another child.

The past several months had been an exercise in fear. Even though Ygraine was delighted to be with child once again, Uther couldn’t share in her joy. Not as long as there was a threat to her health, indeed, to her very life. He had considered broaching the subject of perhaps aborting the pregnancy, if only for the sake of her health, but her perpetual happiness had never left him an opportunity to do so. Given how attached she behaved toward the child, Uther was not such a fool as to think that he could have convinced her to rid herself of the baby anyway.

So he had remained silent on the subject of his fears, and this was the result. He was reduced to pacing outside of his wife’s chambers, waiting and trying to brace himself for the worst.

It was just after the first morning bell that the door to the chamber opened. Uther, who had been standing at the window yet again, whirled around to see Gaius step out into the corridor, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. When the physician met his gaze, he bowed to him and stepped aside. “You may go in now, Sire. The Queen and child are resting comfortably.”

Gaius may have said more, but Uther didn’t hear it. He pushed past the older man and into Ygraine’s chambers. Without hesitation, he hurried toward Ygraine’s bed, waving away the midwives and Alice so that he could get a clear look at his wife.

She was tired, no doubt about that. He could see that in slump of her shoulders, in the way her eyes kept sliding shut only for her to jerk them back open again. In truth, though, she did not look as bad as he had feared she would. Her skin wasn’t a deathly grey, nor was she lying still as death. 

Ygraine must have heard his approach, because she turned her head in his direction. A moment, and then she smiled at him faintly. “I’m fine, my love,” she murmured. “It was nowhere near as hard as the first time. Our new boy was much easier on his mother than Arthur.”

Boy? New boy? _Ah_ , Uther thought, blinking. He hadn’t spared a thought for the child. It appeared he had another son.

The cradle had been placed on the opposite side of Ygraine’s bed, closer to the fireplace so as to provide as much warmth for the child as possible. Standing up from the bed, where he had briefly seated himself, Uther walked around it to look down on his latest progeny.

The infant was small, was Uther’s first thought, puny. A thin cap of dark hair covered his tiny head, far darker than Arthur’s had been when he’d come into the world - a sign that the child likely favored the Pendragon side of his heritage rather than the de Bois’, even if Agravaine was dark-haired unlike his fair-haired younger siblings. Still, Uther couldn't bring himself to look beyond the child’s under-sized appearance. Even if Arthur hadn’t looked anywhere near as beautiful as Morgana, at least he had still been of a healthy size.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Ygraine asked quietly from her bed. He glanced over at her and saw the utterly fond and content smile on her face. She clearly couldn’t see into the cradle to their son, but that did nothing to deter her from keeping her gaze riveted in his general location anyway.

Uther forced himself to smile, and hide his surprise. Were they looking at the same baby? “Quite handsome, my dear,” he lied, trying to sound cheerful even as he calculated the likely probability that the boy wouldn’t make it through the winter. “We’ll have to name him something, I suppose. Perhaps Constans, after my father?”

Tired as she was, Ygraine still had the strength to shake her head. “Merlin,” she said, her tone barely above a whisper as she began to drop off to sleep. 

“His name… is Merlin.”

Uther watched his wife until he was certain she was deep in slumber, and then turned back to the boy. He’d been disquieted throughout his wife’s entire pregnancy. He hadn’t wanted this baby, hadn’t wanted to risk Ygraine’s life after she had so nearly lost it giving birth to Arthur. In truth, however, that hadn’t been the only reason for his reluctance. He hadn’t wanted to risk another son being born so quickly after Arthur. If there had been a few years’ age difference between them, it might not have been so disconcerting. Arthur would be the indisputable heir to Camelot, and any brother clearly the younger sibling and therefore ineligible to wear the crown as long as Arthur drew breath. If Uther was honest with himself, he would have preferred it if this second child, if it had to live, had been born a girl. A girl was no threat to Arthur’s succession rights. 

And a girl would have been a lovely addition to their family. A girl with beautiful pale skin, adorable dark curls dancing around her head… and instead, he had another son. A boy who was a threat to his older brother just through his very existence. 

A tiny little sneeze brought Uther out of his thoughts and he focused on the infant in the cradle again. The infant was sniffling and beginning to fuss. Casting a concerned glance in Ygraine’s direction, Uther grimaced and reached down to pluck the child up. He held the shivering baby close to his chest, rubbing his back methodically, just as he had done with Arthur when he was born. Thankfully, it seemed to work and the boy quieted again after a few moments.

If it had been Arthur, Uther would have kept holding him, would have reveled in feeling tiny hands clasping his tunic in a loose grip. But no, it was probably best that he not get attached. The boy looked like he wouldn’t last long. Uther had no desire to mourn a child.

In truth, he thought as he put the baby back down, it was probably for the best that the boy didn’t make it. It would save trouble for the succession in the long run.

* * *

“The king was wrong, of course,” the grandfather said. “He was so sure that his second son wouldn’t live out the winter, but he did, thanks to the care provided by the court physician and healer, as well as the devotion of the Queen, who could hardly be convinced to let the boy be placed in the nursery with his older brother. The young prince made it through the winter and once Spring came, he began to flourish.”

“The king seems to have been wrong about a lot of things,” the boy pointed out.

The older man snorted. “You’re a good judge of character for one so young.” Shifting in his chair, he continued. “The next several years kept Uther busy. There were wars to fight, treaties to make, allies to gain. He had little time to devote to little boys, and what time he did have, he gave mostly to Arthur, since he was the heir, the future king. Young Merlin, however, didn’t mind that his father apparently thought more of his older brother. Indeed, he would have been surprised if he hadn’t. Merlin thought the world of his older brother, just as much as Arthur adored his younger brother. Such mutual love was encouraged by the Queen.” He sighed. “It was a good thing she did, considering what was to come.”

“What do you mean?” the boy asked curiously. 

For a moment, the grandfather didn’t respond. He seemed to stare off into space, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Finally, he replied, “You know that magic was once treated very suspiciously, right? That it was even outlawed in some kingdoms?” At the boy’s nod, he continued, “Uther never outlawed it, but he viewed it with great prejudice and distrust. It was something he could not control, and that made it a threat in his eyes. He had no quarrel with the common hedge witch or healer plying their trade, but if someone used magic for ill, he was very harsh in his punishment of it.” He gave his grandson a long, steady look before asking, “How do you think he would have viewed one of his sons having magic?”

The boy cringed. Clearly, he had heard enough stories of Uther Pendragon’s view of magic to be concerned.

The older man nodded. “Exactly. Discovering that Merlin was a warlock didn’t go over well at all, and he did all he could to discourage the boy from using his magic. Merlin was taught to control his magic whenever possible, forbidden from discussing it with anyone who didn’t already know of it, and was punished every time the king heard that he used it.” He sighed. “As you can imagine, it caused much tension in the royal household. Queen Ygraine was nervous about her son’s power, but she did not deem it a dire threat as her husband did, and she disliked Uther’s extreme measures to stamp it out.”

“They fought?”

“Indeed they did. Of course, things grew even more tense when Camelot went to war with Caerleon. It was in that conflict that Gorlois died, and things began to change…”


	2. Chapter One

Uther came to a halt in front of the door to the nursery. The news he had to impart to his sons was important, but he had been delaying his announcement for some time. There had been so much to do in the past few weeks, dealing with the cessation of hostilities with Caerleon, dictating the terms of the new treaty, and ensuring that the borders would be properly patrolled. He had no intention of blindly trusting that Caerleon’s king would adhere to the terms, after all. 

All of that, though, had been shadowed by the loss of Gorlois. Uther closed his eyes briefly. His closest friend, gone, cut down in the battle that had led to Caerleon suing for peace. Gorlois should be here, enjoying the fruits of his labors. Uther had planned to make him the chief overlord of the lands that bordered Caerleon, answerable only to him, as a reward for his valiant service and continued loyalty. Now, none of that was possible. Gorlois was dead, buried in a cairn barely a league away from Camelot. Now, all that remained of his legacy was his fine management of Cornwall, the best that area had known in centuries.

And Morgana.

A hand rested on his arm, bringing Uther out of his thoughts. Opening his eyes, he turned to his left. Ygraine’s beautiful eyes stared up at him, bright with concern. “Are you all right?” she asked him softly.

Uther did his best to smile at her, squeezing her hand gently. “I’m fine,” he told her. “I just hope the boys will know how to treat a young lady. She’s hardly someone to play rough and tumble games with.”

Ygraine chuckled. “They have each other for that, dearest. They know how to behave, and I don’t doubt that they’ll be all that is good and kind to her.” She squeezed his arm, a wistful expression crossing her lovely features. “It will be nice to have a daughter, I think. The boys will pass from my direct care soon enough. I should like to have a girl to fuss over, to teach.”

The king nodded, but struggled to hide a reflexive frown that tugged at his lips. He pushed the nursery door open. As he stepped into the room with his wife, he looked around. The nursery was a large, spacious suite of rooms, perfect for two growing princes. The main was well-lit thanks to the large windows that had been cut out of the stone walls especially for the purpose of providing more light. It had been done at high cost, but Ygraine had been delighted by it, so Uther couldn’t begrudge the spent gold too much. 

He quickly spotted his two sons, who were sitting at a table, their heads, one bright like spun gold and the other dark like night, bent over something spread out in front of them. Their nurse, a woman called Hunith, sat nearby her fingers moving deftly over some mending. Uther was pleased to see her periodically glance over at her charges, checking to see that they were at work and not being slothful. He had been hesitant when they had first hired her, not long after Arthur’s birth, since she hadn’t had much experience with children - indeed, she didn’t even have any children of her own - but Gaius vouched for her, and Ygraine had liked her manner. Hunith had proved to be yet another sound investment on their part.

One of the woman’s periodic checks on her charges alerted her to their presence, and Hunith immediately stood up, leaving her mending to fall on her seat behind her. “Prince Arthur, Prince Merlin,” she called in a soft, but firm, tone, “Their Majesties are here.”

The heads of both boys shot up instantly and turned in their direction, and Uther felt two pairs of blue eyes fall on him. Arthur’s eyes were the blue of Ygraine’s, a light, cornflower color, but Uther was more stirred by the eyes of his younger son. His eyes too were blue, but they were a deep, bright color that in no way came from the de Bois’. No, those were eyes that Uther had only ever seen once before, in the face of a man who had died long before Merlin had been born.

But Uther didn’t like to think too long on his dead older brother.

His sons’ gaze only rested on him briefly before turning toward Ygraine, and Uther felt a small twinge in his heart when he saw their round faces light up as they stared at her. They both jumped out of their seats, but when Merlin took a step toward their mother, likely to throw his arms around her greeting, Arthur reached out and caught his younger brother by the shoulder. He leaned over and hissed something in the other boy’s ear, which caused Merlin to immediately straighten and adopt a far graver expression, though he could not entirely quell the gleam of excitement in his eyes.

Uther was pleased by the display. It seemed that, even at the age of only ten, Arthur had the gift of commanding obedience. It was even better that he could command the obedience of his younger brother. The fewer ideas Merlin got about his own superiority, the better, in Uther’s opinion.

The boys approached them slowly, in the most dignified manner they could muster, and bowed. “Your Majesties,” Arthur greeted them, “we are honored by your visit today.”

Ygraine beamed at them. “We thank you for your kind reception,” she replied. For several moments, there was a silence, and then she stepped forward and held out her arms to them. Neither of the boys needed any further encouragement to rush forward into their mother’s embrace. Uther watched this interaction intently. He had never quite established such a close bond with either of his sons as his wife had, and while Arthur in particular was always pleased to see him, he never behaved with him as he did with his mother.

Both of his sons preferred their mother’s company to his. Uther tried not to take it as an affront, but it was hard not to sometimes.

Clearing his throat, he caught the attention of his family. Arthur instinctively straightened, letting go of Ygraine and standing as tall as he could beside her, but while Merlin turned his face toward him, he did not let go of his mother. Nor did Ygraine let go of him. “We have news for you,” he informed them. “As you know, Lord Gorlois died in battle against Caerleon some weeks ago. He left behind his lands and his young daughter, the Lady Morgana.” Uther was relieved that his voice remained even despite his throat tightening yet again as he thought of the beautiful little girl he had never seen and had only heard about through the stories that Gorlois had imparted on occasion.

“She lost her father,” Merlin murmured as he snuggled closer to Ygraine. “That’s sad.”

Uther nodded absently. “Lord Gorlois’ lands will be seen to by a distant relation of his, as well as his stewards, but the Lady Morgana cannot be left in Cornwall by herself. We have decided to bring her to Camelot to live with the royal family. It is the least we can do to repay Lord Gorlois’ exemplary service to the kingdom.”

Arthur stared at him, a pensive expression crossing his features. “She’ll live with us, Father?” he asked.

Uther inclined his head. “Yes, Arthur, she will.” He gave him and Merlin both stern looks. “I expect nothing less than your very best behavior when she arrives. She will undoubtedly be grieving and sad, and I will be very… upset… if I discover that either of you has behaved badly toward her in any way. You will certainly gain yourselves a switching, at the very least. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Father,” Arthur answered promptly, and his response was echoed by Merlin a scant moment later.

“Good,” Uther said, satisfied. He watched as his wife and sons turned their attention to each other. Arthur and Merlin led their mother to the table, clearly intent on showing her what they had been working on prior to her arrival. Leaving them to that occupation, Uther turned his attention to Hunith, who had been standing and silently observing the scene. “Hunith,” he said, motioning for her to come closer.

The woman reacted swiftly, a mark of a good servant. She approached him, curtsying out of respect. “How may I be of service, Sire?”

He stared at her closely. Hunith was no beauty, it was true, though she could be considered pretty. What impressed Uther more, however, was that she had an honest face. He was certain that any lie would show in her features. It was a relief, knowing that he would always have a truthful account of what went on in the nursery. It wouldn’t do, after all, to not be aware of any serious mischief that occurred.

“Have the princes’ behavior been satisfactory? No misconduct?” he asked.

Her face didn’t so much as twitch uncomfortably as she replied, “The princes have behaved in an exemplary manner, Sire. They are both a credit to you and Queen Ygraine.”

Uther nodded. “Good, good,” he said slowly. He glanced over at his wife and sons. After seeing them completely engrossed in their own conversation, he turned back to Hunith and asked in a lower tone, “And there have been no signs of Prince Merlin doing anything… unnatural? No unseemly displays of magic?” He hardly wanted to chance the news that his younger son was a sorcerer  or a warlock, since Gaius kept insisting that there was a difference between the two terms  getting out to the ears of his nobles and the common folk.

Hunith didn’t hesitate. “Prince Merlin has behaved with perfect decorum, and has adhered to all of the strictures that will make him an excellent young man when he is grown.”

* * *

“That’s really sad,” Merlin said to his brother some hours later, as they readied for their evening meal. It wouldn’t be long before the servants brought their food in on trays from the kitchens.

“What is?” Arthur asked as he wiped his wet hands on a towel.

Merlin was busy washing is own hands in the bowel of warm water Hunith had provided for them. “That Lady Morgana’s father died. She doesn’t have a mama either. Mama said so.”

Arthur nodded. It was sad. He didn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t have his parents and his brother, and it sounded like the girl didn’t have anyone now. “That’s why Father wants us to be extra nice to her,” he reminded his younger brother. “She’s probably really sad right now, so we can’t do anything to make her even sadder.”

Merlin nodded as he took the towel that Arthur held out to him. As he wiped his own hands, they heard the doors to the nursery open again. Within moments, Arthur could smell the scent of the food that had been brought in for them. Venison, warm bread, and… cooked cabbage. Arthur grimaced at the smell, and he saw his little brother wrinkle his nose.

They reluctantly began to cross the room towards the table where the servants and Hunith were laying out the food. Suddenly, Merlin turned toward him and asked, “Do you think Lady Morgana hates cabbage too? I bet she does. Who likes that?”

“Father does,” Arthur felt compelled to point out, but it was hardly a strong point. Father was an adult. Adults were strange.

Merlin knew this, and he gave him a knowing look. When they finally reached the table, the servants stepped back, letting them climb into their chairs. There was far more food on the table than Arthur had initially thought. The meat was there, mixed in with the soup, along with the bread, some cheese, and some fruits. There was even a pitcher of cold milk too.

Unfortunately, there was also the cooked cabbage as well. 

Arthur made a face, but knew better than to refuse to eat the offending vegetable. If he and Merlin refused to eat it, Hunith would be upset with them. If Hunith got upset, she’d tell Mother, and then Mother would be upset too. They might even earn a switching, if they kept refusing.

No, it was better to just eat the offending food first and get it over with. There were lots of better-tasting foods to be eaten anyway.

As Arthur forced himself to eat the cabbage, Merlin followed his example from his spot across the table, making a sour face as he did so. 

After forcing the majority of the cabbage down, Merlin looked up at him. “I think Lady Morgana won’t like cabbage,” he said again. “And she’ll be sad about her father. She shouldn’t have to eat food she doesn’t like when she’s sad, should she?”

Arthur stared at his brother, trying to understand why his brother kept harping on the subjects of the Lady Morgana and _cabbage_ , of all things. She probably didn’t like cabbage, yes, but few people did. Arthur and Merlin certainly hated it, and ate it only to avoid… being… His eyes widened in realization. 

Merlin grinned at him proudly. _Clever little brother_ , Arthur thought fondly. Out loud, he replied, “No, no she shouldn’t. So maybe we should tell Cook not to send us any cabbage for a while?”

“Exactly!” Merlin beamed.

* * *

The white gleam of Camelot, bright in the late autumn sun, hurt her eyes. Everything was too bright, too shiny here in the heart of the kingdom. Letting the heavy canvas drop, Morgana leaned back and closed her eyes. She buried her face in the cushions in the litter that carried her closer to this bright citadel that her cousin, a man she barely knew, had told her was to be her new home.

She didn’t want to come here, where everything was bright and loud and shiny. She wanted to be at home, in Cornwall, in the castle by the sea where everything was grey and dark and soothing. She wanted to be with her nurse, Branwyn, in her chambers. She wanted the servants she had been surrounded by her whole life. She wanted the distant roar of the sea pounding against the rocky cliffs.

She wanted her papa.

Tears welled in Morgana’s eyes and she hiccupped in the attempt to suppress a sob. It felt like she’d cried every day since the red knight with the golden dragon on his chest had ridden into the courtyard of her home, bearing the news that Papa had died in battle. It wasn’t _fair_! Papa was all she had, since her mother had died when she was barely more than a few months old. Why did he have to die on some battlefield against some mean old king who couldn’t mind his own business in his own kingdom?

None of it made any sense to Morgana, but that didn’t seem to stop the world from continuing on. Within a week of learning of her papa’s death, one of her father’s distant cousins rode into the castle’s courtyard and informed her that she wouldn’t be staying, but would rather be traveling to Camelot to become the ward of the King.

Morgana didn’t want to be the ward of the King. She wanted to simply be Morgana, daughter of Gorlois, heir to Cornwall. 

No one seemed to care about what she wanted. That was why she was in this litter, moving ever closer to that too bright castle that was full of strangers, even if some of those strangers were friends of her papa. Papa had told her about them, of course, about good King Uther and pretty Queen Ygraine, about their two sons, Prince Arthur and Prince Merlin, who weren’t much younger than her. He even mentioned wise Alice and Gaius, the royal healer and physician respectively, who always looked after everyone and made them better when they were sick.

They hadn’t been able to save Papa, though.

Morgana was so lost in her sorrows that she barely noticed when the litter came to a wobbling stop. There were voices coming from outside the canvas, deep, male voices. Suddenly, the canvas was pulled up, letting the sunlight pour into her litter. Morgana whimpered and shrank back from the sudden burst of light. She didn’t even try to make out just who it was that was staring at her.

“Morgana?” It was a man’s voice, someone perhaps around her papa’s age, but Morgana still didn’t look up, even as she registered the concern in his tone. She didn’t want to see, didn’t want to face the world waiting for her outside.

Again, she didn’t seem to have a choice. Hands grasped her gently, pulling her up from the cushions and towards the light outside of the litter. Morgana moaned in protest, but she was plucked out nonetheless. Stubbornly, she squeezed her eyes shut against the light, and when strong arms wrapped around her, arms so like Papa’s, Morgana curled into the embrace, burying her face in the person’s neck.

The person carrying her began to walk. He walked for a long time, going up steps, through doors and into some kind of building, up more steps, through more doors. Morgana could hear voices, some soft and feminine, while the other, the one of the person holding her, was deep and masculine. It rumbled in his chest, just like Papa’s. 

Careful hands placed her down on a soft surface, and began to tug at her dress. Morgana thought about fighting - Papa had given her the dress, she wanted to keep it, so it would be like he was still with her - but she was tired, so tired. There was no strength in her to fight, so she simply gave in. The dress was removed, only to be replaced by the warm, soft material of a nightgown. Hands guided her to lie back, and she found herself resting against thick, fluffy pillows.

Sleep, mercifully, came quickly.

* * *

Uther stared down at the child lying in the bed, still as death. This poor thing, this poor, miserable, grieving girl was his daughter. His _daughter_. She was here at last.

Even though her face was tear-streaked and her nose glistened from snot, Morgana was still beautiful. Gorlois had crowed about how lovely she was, calling her the image of Vivienne, but he still hadn’t managed to do her justice. Uther was sure he saw more than the girl’s mother in her appearance. No, he didn’t just see Vivienne in Morgana’s face. He saw his own mother.

It was exhilarating, truthfully. Arthur was the image of the de Bois’, and Merlin… well, he looked so much like Aurelius that it still gave him shivers. To see his dead brother staring out at him from the face of his son was no happy thing. It was wonderful to see that the appearance of another of the Pendragons had been passed on. Morgana was the image of her grandmother, and it warmed Uther’s heart.

Whispers coming from behind him distracted Uther from continuing his catalog of his daughter’s appearance, and he turned, a little irritated by the interruption. Standing in the doorway, Uther found, were both of his sons, their eyes wide and curious as they focused their combined gazes on the bed behind him.

“Father,” Arthur whispered, as if sensing that it would be wrong to speak very loudly, “is that her? Is she here now?”

Uther glanced behind him. Morgana hadn’t been awakened by the arrival of her half-brothers, thank goodness. Turning back to the boys, he nodded tersely. “Yes, and she is very tired. Her journey here has been a long one and she needs to rest.” He gave them a stern look. “I trust you two won’t run about like heathens and disturb her?”

Arthur shook his head furiously. “No, Father,” he replied. “We’ll be quiet.”

Uther watched his elder son begin to move away, but the younger did not. Merlin’s eerie eyes remained focused on the bed. “Is she sick?” the boy asked quietly. “Maybe she’d like some soup. Cook’s soup always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”

The king ground his teeth in frustration. He knew, logically, that the child meant well, and was indeed making a suggestion that would be perfectly valid under most circumstances. To be perfectly honest, however, he simply wanted a moment alone with his daughter, to not be disturbed by anyone. “Get back to your studies,” he growled. That was all Arthur needed, thankfully, and he grabbed Merlin’s arm and dragged him away.

Hunith, who had been silent for some time after having assisted in getting Morgana out of her traveling dress and into the nightgown, curtsied and followed her other charges out of the room. Clearly, she knew when her task was finished and she was no longer required. That left Uther and Morgana alone.

He turned back to the bed, sitting down in the chair that had been placed next to it and again staring at the sleeping girl. Uther knew he should leave her be, let her rest in peace. He also knew he had his own duties to attend to, since the running of the kingdom didn’t just halt because his new ward had arrived in the citadel. It was for the best, really.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave, didn’t _want_ to leave. He didn’t even want to take his eyes off of her. 

His daughter. Here at last.

As shameful as the thought was, Uther believed it was like a miracle. 

Reaching out tentatively, Uther brushed a curl away from Morgana’s face. 

_My dearest child_ , he thought tenderly, _you may not know it, but you are home. Nothing will separate you from me, ever again. All will be well, you’ll see. I promise you that._

* * *

Merlin and Arthur didn’t see much of their new foster sister in the first few days after she came to Camelot. They’d seen her briefly when their father had burst into the nursery, carrying her straight to the small bedchamber that had been cleared for her before she’d arrived. Unfortunately, Father hadn’t let them look at her more closely. After that, Hunith had been taking care of her, dragging her off to the seamstresses every morning to be fitted for new clothes and other girl things that were rather a mystery to Merlin. He and his brother had been left mostly in the care of their tutor, an older man named Lucius.

It wasn’t until the fourth afternoon after her arrival that Merlin and Arthur actually got to share a meal with her. They’d paused in their studies to eat a small afternoon meal of bread, cheese, and fruit, and were surprised when the door to Morgana’s chamber opened and she stepped into the large common room, Hunith a step behind her.

Merlin was surprised to see how different Morgana looked. From what he’d seen of her when Father had first carried her into the nursery, she’d been wearing a plain grey dress and her hair had been a mass of tangles. Now, she wore a pretty green dress that actually looked a little like the ones Mama sometimes wore, and her hair was now brushed and looked quite nice. Curly, but nice.

Hunith led Morgana over to the table and Arthur slipped off of the bench. Merlin hurriedly followed his brother’s lead, and he and Arthur bowed to Morgana, just as they were supposed to when they were in the company of a lady. 

Hunith smiled, clearly pleased that she hadn’t had to prompt them to stand up to greet them. “Lady Morgana,” she said, “this is Prince Arthur Pendragon, and his brother, Prince Merlin. Your Highnesses, this is Lady Morgana of Cornwall.”

Merlin let Arthur speak for them, as always. It was only right, since Arthur was older and would be king someday. As his brother welcomed Morgana to Camelot and to the nursery, Merlin smiled at her, hoping he looked friendly. He didn’t want word to reach Father that he hadn’t been kind to Morgana who, from the solemn expression on her face, was obviously still very sad.

“Thank you,” she said softly once Arthur stopped speaking. “I… I’m grateful for your welcome.”

There was a moment of silence as Merlin eyed Morgana carefully, and she eyed him and his brother just as warily. Finally, Merlin looked down at the table and the food that had been laid out there. “There’s no cooked cabbage,” he pointed out to her.

She followed his gaze and her lips twitched a little. “Good. I don’t like cabbage.”

Merlin couldn’t help but throw a grin in his brother’s direction. Arthur rolled his eyes and reached out to ruffle Merlin’s hair. He loved being right!

* * *

It wasn’t so bad at all, having Morgana in the nursery, Arthur discovered. He’d been a little worried about what it might mean, but other than Hunith having a girl to look after along with him and Merlin, nothing much seemed to change in their routines.

Morgana was sad and listless a lot of the time, but she seemed to be putting on her best brave face. She didn’t say much unless she was spoken to first, and she was always polite whenever Merlin spoke to her, which Arthur approved of. A lot of times people were short with his brother, probably because he was the younger prince and wasn’t their future king, so he was glad that Morgana wasn’t following that example.

Merlin seemed to be on his way to liking her very much, as Arthur discovered about a week after Morgana joined them. It was a rare time when the three of them were left to their own devices, since Hunith was one room away, supervising the maids that had come in to clean and gather up the laundry. 

Morgana was slipping back into one of her sad states, her pale green eyes growing distant as they sat at the table, their books and parchment spread in front of them. Arthur was watching her, uncertain as to what to say. Merlin watched her too, but he seemed to have an idea of what to do. “Morgana,” he said suddenly, his voice low, “do you want to see something pretty?”

She blinked, surprised by the interruption of whatever she was thinking about. Arthur watched her focus her gaze on Merlin, and he thought he saw a small gleam of curiosity enter her sorrowful gaze. She nodded silently.

Merlin beamed and, after glancing around carefully to make sure no one else was there to see, he held out his hand, which was closed in a small fist. He breathed a small sigh, and then opened his fist, releasing a group of colorful butterflies. The little things flittered around them for several seconds, before making their way over to dance about Morgana’s wild curls.

Arthur shook his head at such a girly display. Under other circumstances, he would have teased his brother for magicking up _butterflies_ , of all things, but in this case, it seemed just what was needed. Morgana gasped at the show, and as the butterflies fluttered around her, a large, happy smile spread across her round face. It was perhaps the happiest Arthur had ever seen her look.

“They’re beautiful!” she exclaimed, reaching out toward the butterflies. They darted back, away and out of her reach, only to resume their flighty dance about her head. Morgana watched them for another moment, clearly enchanted, before her eyes riveted themselves back on Merlin, who looked rather pleased with himself. “You can do magic!”

Merlin nodded proudly. Arthur admitted to himself that he was also proud of his brother’s special ability, even if other people weren’t. He’d lost count of the times Merlin had made the stars shine brighter in the sky from their window, making it easier to identify the constellations that their tutors tried to make them remember.

Arthur didn’t know why his father so disliked Merlin’s magic, but he knew he did. Nearly all of the spankings that Merlin received were on account of it. Arthur was pretty sure that if their father could switch the magic out of Merlin, he’d do it in a second. Arthur just didn’t understand why, though. Not when Merlin’s magic did nice things, like make Morgana not be so sad.

It didn’t make sense, but then, few things outside the nursery did.

“They’re nice, Merlin,” Arthur said out loud, “but you should make them go away now. No one’s supposed to see,” he reminded his brother.

Merlin glanced away from the butterflies and toward him, and then nodded. A look of regret flashed across his face, but he flicked his fingers at the butterflies, and they promptly vanished, leaving only a small shower of bright sparkles, which fell down around Morgana, much to her delight.

“Pretty!” she said, her face alight with glee. She and Merlin shared beaming smiles.

Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head. _Girls, the both of them._

Still, he couldn’t deny that Merlin’s silly display had cheered Morgana up quite a bit. She seemed to shake off her previous sadness for the rest of the day as they finished their schoolwork and ate their supper. It was when the meal was being cleared by the servants, supervised by Hunith, of course, that the door opened to reveal that they had visitors.

Arthur quickly leapt to his feet when he saw his parents, and was pleased to see Merlin do the same, and was even more pleased to see his brother wait quietly instead of leaping forward to hug their mother. It was all well and good to do that in private time, but it wasn’t private time when Father came to visit. Father expected him and Merlin to show proper de… de… _decorum_ , that was the word. 

He and Merlin bowed to their parents, exchanging all the proper greetings with them. Out of the corner of his eye, though, Arthur was alarmed to see that Morgana hadn’t gotten up to greet the king and queen, as was proper. The one time Arthur and Merlin hadn’t done that when they knew they should, they’d received a switching from their father and a disappointed lecture from their mother. Casting his eyes worriedly between Morgana and his parents, Arthur tried to discreetly motion for her to get up from the bench. Morgana paid him no mind, however, and instead just smiled in his parents’ direction.

Arthur tried to hide a cringe. _She’s in for it now_ , he thought, trying to brace himself for what would undoubtedly be a sharp reprimand from his father.

It never came. Instead, the king strode forward, a beaming smile on his face, and knelt at Morgana’s side, not even glancing in Arthur and Merlin’s direction. Ygraine also smiled at them, and motioned for them to sit back down, which they did. 

“How are you today, Morgana? Have you been feeling a little better?” he asked.

She nodded happily enough. “Yes, Sire, a bit.” She cast a happy smile at Merlin. “And it’s all thanks to Merlin’s magic! He showed me pretty butterflies!”

Arthur froze in his seat, and could feel Merlin gasp and shudder beside him.

_Oh no._

* * *

Ygraine didn’t have to see her husband’s face to recognize the way his shoulders tightened. This wasn’t what she’d hoped to have happen during their visit today. She’d hoped for a calm, happy gathering for a few hours, hoped that they might share a lovely time with the children. In truth, she’d been a little excited to get to know the young Morgana better, since Ygraine hadn’t had the chance to spend much time with her since her arrival. 

Now, though, with the revelation that Merlin had used his magic  something Uther had outright forbidden  Ygraine knew that there would be no chance for that. She stepped forward, hoping to stem the tide of her husband’s fury, and gave Merlin a stern, reproving look. “Merlin? Have you been using your -”

She didn’t get a chance to scold her son, when Uther abruptly stood up and moved around the table in two large strides, cutting her off. “Morgana,” he said in a cold, furious tone that Ygraine knew he reserved only for treasonous nobles and envoys of kings who attacked his kingdom, “if you will excuse me and Merlin for a moment.” Uther didn’t wait for Morgana to reply before grabbing Merlin, who had been sitting next to Arthur with a white, fearful face, by the arm and jerking him off the bench. Ygraine noticed the young girl shrink back, fear crossing her features as she watched Uther.

Merlin cried out at the rough movement, and Ygraine’s stomach dropped. Uther was angry, and clearly his grip was harsh on their son’s arm. “Uther,” she started to protest, following them.

He brought his free hand up in a sharp, dismissive gesture. “No, Ygraine,” he snapped, “you’ve coddled him enough, and no good has come of it. He is still using his magic! He could have hurt Morgana!” He shook his head and started toward the door to Merlin’s bedchamber. “Clearly, being soft with him has not solved the problem. I -”

A loud, shrill shriek stopped Uther’s growing rant in its tracks and both Ygraine and Uther whirled back toward the table. She was horrified to see that Arthur had lunged across the table and sunk his fingers into Morgana’s curls, yanking on them, hard. Morgana, in turn, was trying to pull his hand free, which only added to the pain and her tears. 

“Arthur! St -” Ygraine was yet again interrupted, only this time it was because her husband had dropped Merlin’s arm and shoved past her. His hand flew through the air, cuffing Arthur about the head and knocking him away from Morgana. “Uther!” Ygraine cried out, horrified, as Arthur tumbled off the bench and hit the stone floor. Uther had spanked the boys in the past, of course, but he’d never struck either of them in such a manner.

Uther paid her no heed, however, instead sitting down on the bench next to Morgana. He ran his hand over her head, muttering soothing words to her. Ygraine could only gape as the girl whimpered and buried her face in Uther’s neck and he focused on her exclusively, as though he hadn’t just bruised one son and struck and knocked the other to the ground. What was happening here, exactly?

Ygraine finally shrugged off her shock and knelt down next to Arthur and Merlin, who had rushed to his brother’s side the moment he had hit the floor. Her eldest son’s eyes were wide with shock, but she saw the grim, determined set of his jaw, and saw the way he was carefully nudging Merlin behind him. Suddenly, she understood. Arthur had lashed out at Morgana deliberately, to redirect his father’s ire.

She shivered. Ygraine had been raised in a strict family, but a loving one. Even when her father had disciplined her or her brothers, there had never been any doubt of his love for them, nor had they dreamed that he’d truly _hurt_ them. Uther had punished both of the boys before in the past, and yet neither of them had deliberately tried to interfere in such a manner, to bring their father’s wrath down upon them instead of the other.

Arthur had seen something in Uther, something Ygraine hadn’t, and it had driven him to protect his brother.

Why should her sons ever have cause to truly fear their father? When had things changed so that something like this would happen?

She didn’t have a chance to ponder this when Uther began to stand up. He gently loosened Morgana’s frantic grip on him, even as she tried to keep hold, and got off the bench. His eyes focused on Arthur, and Ygraine shivered at the cold rage in them. “Arthur, Merlin,” he said, his tone full of menace. Both the boys faced their father bravely, but Ygraine could see their hands shaking. They were terrified, but still faced him with every bit of courage that they had.

Uther said nothing more, instead only nodded toward the door that led to Arthur’s chambers. To their credit, Arthur and Merlin didn’t shrink from the obvious message, but the fear and dread on their faces was heartbreaking. Nonetheless, they stepped forward to meet their fate, disappearing from the room. Uther followed them wordlessly, leaving the door open just a crack.

The first crack of the belt against flesh was loud in Ygraine’s ears, and her hand flew up to her mouth to stifle her own cry. Uther had never used the belt against the boys without at least the semi-protection of their trousers before. The second made her flinch. The third brought a muffled grunt from inside the room. It was Arthur. The fourth brought a slightly higher pitched whimper. It was Merlin.

The cracks continued, the fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, and finally, the tenth. 

There was a pause of several seconds, and Ygraine slowly forced herself to her feet. As the cracks began again, this time for Merlin, she noticed that Morgana was still cradling her head where Arthur had pulled her hair. For that matter, she was still sniffling and crying, though her wide eyes were glued to the door through which Uther and the boys had disappeared. 

Irritation filled her. For goodness’ sake, she was still crying over having someone yank on her hair? Ygraine had had her hair pulled many times as a child - she had made a point of pulling Tristan’s hair just as hard - and she had never made such a fuss! Even if Arthur’s actions were reprehensible, it surely could not hurt so much that she was still crying over it. The sting must have faded by now.

“For God’s sake, girl,” Ygraine snapped, “stop sniveling! There’s been enough trouble with you telling tales!”

Morgana’s eyes whipped to her, and they seemed to widen even further as she shrank away. Ygraine felt a small pang of guilt for frightening the girl, but didn’t acknowledge it further when the door opened and the boys and Uther reappeared, the latter grimly satisfied and the former two pale and shaking. As they came to a halt, Uther turned to face the boys again. “No magic,” he growled at Merlin. Next, he turned to Arthur, adding in a tone that was little more than a hiss, “Lay hands on her again, and it will be twenty lashes instead of ten.”

Uther didn’t even look at Ygraine then, just turned on his heel to Morgana. He picked her up, lifting her off the bench, and carried her out of the nursery without another word, leaving her and the others to deal with what had just happened.


	3. Chapter Two

The corridor was eerily silent, aside from Merlin and Arthur’s combined footfalls. Neither of them said anything as they walked back toward their schoolroom, where their tutor was waiting for them. Merlin kept his head down, his eyes glued to the stones he walked on.

Since… _that night_ … everything and everyone had been tense. Merlin’s backside had smarted for nearly a week after his father had unleashed his belt on him. Arthur had suffered from it even longer, because he’d gone first. All because of a few magic butterflies and a tug on dark curls. 

In the past, when Father had punished them, things had been tense for a little while, but eventually all went back to normal and everything was fine again. Not so now. Not so now that Morgana was here.

Merlin honestly didn’t know what to think of everything. He and Arthur had had a tentative peace with Morgana, and were even enjoying one another’s company until… until. After Father had left, carrying Morgana in his arms, Mother had comforted them as best she could. She had been disappointed in Merlin for breaking the ‘no magic’ rule and in Arthur for attacking Morgana, but she seemed to think that Father’s punishment had been far too harsh, even if she didn’t outright say so.

Instead, Mother had cradled them in her arms, stroking their heads and wiping their tears away and speaking. She assured them that Morgana had not meant to tattle, that she simply hadn’t known that it was better not to mention Merlin’s magic to Father. Arthur had scoffed then, and even now didn’t believe it. Merlin had wanted to believe, but that belief wavered more and more with every passing day.

The nursery was fast becoming a place to avoid as much as possible, rather than remaining the refuge and home it had always been for him and his brother. Merlin and Arthur had both been told repeatedly to be on their best behavior before and after Morgana arrived, and to be considerate of what games she would like to play, rather than try to get her interested in their games. At first, it hadn’t been so bad, because Morgana hadn’t been all that interested in playing many games, but then the toys started to arrive. Well, not just the toys, but the _dolls_. The dolls with the dainty white dresses and painted faces, dolls so expensive that Merlin was pretty sure even the nobles could scarcely afford to buy them from the few merchants who had them. Morgana had loved them, and wanted to play with them all. As a result, he and Arthur had been reduced to playing with them with her. 

That wasn’t the worst part of it, though. If he or his brother even hinted at wanting to play something else, something that didn’t involve _dolls_ , Morgana would get teary and pout, especially if Arthur was the one to hint at it. She hadn’t outright said that she would tell Father yet, but she would always wonder out loud if he was going to visit them soon. The threat was there in her eyes as she glared at Arthur, who could only glare back.

Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, there was the food. Merlin and Arthur had convinced Cook not to send them cabbage and all the other foods Morgana was sure to hate before she’d come to Camelot, but that had only lasted so long. The vegetables and other less desirable foods had eventually returned to the trays brought to the nursery. Merlin and Arthur ate them dutifully enough, for Hunith’s sake if nothing else, but Morgana flat out refused, something that would have ended up being reported to Father or Mama if it had been Merlin or Arthur refusing. A switching would have followed.

In this case, a report was still made, but the end result was far different than anything Merlin had ever seen.

 

_“I don’t like cabbage!” Morgana complained, pushing the plate in front of her away from her sullenly. “I won’t eat it! I won’t!”_

_Merlin could see Hunith’s mouth tightening, a sure sign she was growing angry. He ducked his head and continued to eat his cabbage, glancing at Arthur. He wasn’t eating his food, but was instead glaring at Morgana. Merlin could see that he wanted to speak up, to tell her to stop being a baby and_ eat _, but didn’t dare._

_Merlin wished she would eat too. If she didn’t, Morgana was sure to get scolded by Mama or, worse, spanked by Father. He and Arthur both knew that neither of their parents had any patience for children who didn’t eat what they were told. Even if she’d accidentally gotten him spanked, he didn’t wish it on her._

_“My lady,” Hunith said, her tone coaxing, “cabbage is very good for you. Look,” she gestured to Merlin, “Prince Merlin is eating his cabbage. Won’t you be big girl and eat it like him?” Morgana shook her head stubbornly, so she gave Morgana a stern look, adding, “There are many hungry children in Camelot who would be glad to have this food.”_

_Morgana scowled. “Then let_ them _eat it,” she snapped, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest petulantly. “I’d rather starve!”_

_A flash of deep disapproval crossed Hunith’s face, and Merlin stiffened in anger himself. Hunith had told him and Arthur many times of her life in Ealdor, the village where she had grown up. She’d told them of how hard the winters were there, and how difficult it was for them to grow enough food for everyone in the rocky soil. Sometimes, some of the younger children didn’t live because their parents didn’t have enough food to keep them alive._

_Merlin knew that Morgana likely didn’t know about that, about how one of the few things that could make Hunith well and truly angry was someone saying they’d rather starve than eat perfectly good food. Still, it was rather insensitive of her. Didn’t Lord Gorlois teach her_ anything _about their people, and how they had to work to grow their food and that they didn’t always have enough?_

_He even remembered an occasion when he and Arthur had taken a walk with Hunith and how they had overheard a noble yelling at a servant, complaining about the ‘disgraceful state’ his food was in. The noble had ordered the servant to feed the food to the pigs, since that was all it was good for. Not a minute later, the servant had appeared, carrying a tray of food that looked as good as anything Merlin and Arthur were served in the nursery. Hunith’s expression had gone from tense to angry very quickly._

_He stiffened when Hunith walked to the door and called to a passing servant, asking that the king come to the nursery. Merlin shivered. Father had been to the nursery many times since_ that night _, but he hadn’t paid any attention to him or to Arthur. He always came to see Morgana, and was full of praise for her. If he and Arthur tried to speak to Father then, to join in on the happy scene, they usually received a sharp reprimand or were told to work on their studies elsewhere, even if they were finished with their lessons for the day. They were clearly not invited to take part in Father’s visits with Morgana._

_Now, though, Morgana was being bad. Father had no tolerance for that kind of thing. She was in for it now, surely. Merlin didn’t envy her. Biting his lip, he glanced at the door one more time and then hissed at her, “You should eat a little bit of it. Maybe you won’t get in trouble when Father gets here.”_

_Morgana’s pouting didn’t let up. She tossed her hair and snapped, “My papa_ never _made me eat icky cabbage!”_

_“Merlin,” Arthur said in a commanding tone, “let her be.” There was no arguing with that tone, so Merlin obediently settled in to wait Morgana’s fate._

_Sure enough, Father appeared at the nursery door soon after the servant hurried off to fetch him. He wasn’t alone, Merlin quickly saw. Mama wasn’t with him, but there was a servant carrying a food tray. Father strode toward them, and Merlin quickly saw that his eyes were glued to Morgana, who had brightened immediately at the sight of him._

_Father said nothing to either him or Arthur, even when both of them leapt from their bench to bow, as was proper. Instead, he waved his hand at the servant, who quickly sat the tray down on the table and began to move the other trays that were already there out of the way. “Morgana,” Father said in a gentle tone that he never used with either of his sons, “whatever is the matter? Hunith says that you won’t eat your dinner.”_

_It was true. Morgana wouldn’t eat her cabbage, but she wouldn’t eat the bread or the fruits, or even the fish. She didn’t even drink her milk._

_Morgana sniffled. “Don’t like cabbage,” she told him, leaning forward to bury her face in his chest._

_Merlin watched this, and glanced at Arthur. His older brother was also watching the scene closely too. He knew what Arthur was thinking. If either of them had spoken or behaved like this, they would have gotten a swat, at the very least._

_Not so here. Instead, Father just smiled and hugged her. “You need to eat, dearest,” he told her, stroking her curly hair. He nudged her, prompting her to pull back and look up at him. “Here,” he said, nodding toward the table. “Would you like some of these?”_

_Merlin looked at the new tray. There were two plates on it. One had a selection of pastries and cakes on it, likely a choice of what would be available at tonight’s feast. Still, such foods were rarely allowed in the nursery. Mama always insisted that he and Arthur eat good, healthy foods to help them grow strong. On special occasions, like their birthdays or holidays, they were allowed to eat such things, since those were special days, but out of the blue like this? Never. The second plate had foods he and Arthur were a little more familiar with, like meat pie, slices of roast duck, and venison. Still, Father had never approved of children refusing to eat what they were told to eat. Why was he bringing more food now? Merlin stared at everything, utterly confused._

_Morgana didn’t seem to share his bewilderment, though. She looked at the selection before her and brightened. “Cake!” she exclaimed, delighted. She didn’t move away from Father, but she did snake out one arm to take one of the pastries. Holding it up to her mouth, she took a large bite, the frosting smearing at the corners of her mouth._

_Merlin couldn’t help but gape. Father was actually_ letting _Morgana eat such things? He was letting her refuse to eat what she was told?_

_It was then that Father seemed to notice his and Arthur’s presence. His eyes narrowed at them he growled, “Have you both finished your dinner?” he demanded._

_They hadn’t, but then, the servants had already moved their plates to make way for the new trays. It didn’t really matter, though, because Father didn’t wait for them to respond. He just snapped, “Get to your studies!”_

_Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hand and dragged him away without a word. Merlin didn’t have to look at his older brother to know that he was fuming._

 

It wasn’t a unique occurrence. After that first time Father gave in and let her eat whatever she pleased, it kept happening again and again. Morgana would have a fit if Hunith tried to make her eat the vegetables that were sent up with the regular supper, and all she would quiet down for were sweets. Father didn’t come to the nursery every night to feed them to her, but it was near enough. And every time, Merlin and Arthur were told to make themselves busy elsewhere.

Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, there were the nightmares.

 

_The screams tore Merlin violently out of his sleep. Before he even knew fully what he was doing, he’d leapt from his bed and was half-way to the door of his chamber. His sleep-addled brain was coming up with possibility after possibility for the cause of the unholy shrieks  someone had broken into the nursery and was killing everyone they found, a servant had found a snake or rat, someone was playing a cruel joke._

_It was the first possibility that clung to his thoughts, and it filled Merlin with terror._

_Throwing the door open, he stepped out of his chamber just in time to see Hunith rushing from her pallet toward Morgana’s room. That was where the screaming was coming from. The shrieks were even louder outside his chamber, even more terrifying. Shuddering, Merlin didn’t think further but to rush to the door that led to his brother’s chambers. Pushing it open and letting the dim light from the fireplace seep into the room, Merlin hurried inside. Much to his relief, Arthur was already sitting up in his bed, his eyes wide with alarm._

_“Merlin,” he said, “what’s going _on_? What is that noise? What’s happening?”_

_“Someone’s screaming,” Merlin replied as he clambered up beside his brother on the bed. “Morgana, I think. Hunith’s with her.”_

_The screaming was still audible, but now Merlin could hear the soothing tones of Hunith’s voice. It comforted him to hear that his nurse was trying to make things better, but still, it had been horrible to wake up like this._

_Arthur seemed to notice his discomfort, because he nudged Merlin back against the pillows and pulled the furs up around the both of them. “Go to sleep, little brother,” he ordered quietly. “You can stay with me until morning.”_

_Merlin did, which said a lot about how much Morgana’s howling disrupted the nursery. Hunith normally would have woken him and taken him back to his own room, but she didn’t find him until she came in to wake Arthur as the sun rose._

 

Father was concerned, of course, when he heard about Morgana’s nightmares, and he only increased his visits to the nursery. He’d sit with her, tell or read her stories, or do other things to entertain her. Merlin by now had lost count of how many times he had drifted into a fitful sleep to the sound of his father and foster sister laughing together.

This was Merlin’s life now, he saw, and he found he didn’t like it much. Morgana was looking sicker and sicker as time passed, and no one, to his mind, was doing much about it. He wondered why Alice and Gaius were not summoned to look at her. They always helped him and Arthur when they were sick, so surely they could help her. Surely they could make sure she slept without nightmares that made her cry out like a banshee, could make sure she didn’t look like she was wasting away.

Surely they could do that, and Father would stop blaming him and Arthur for how Morgana looked, like he just had.

 

_“I remind you again, boys,” Father said, “of your duty to your new sister.” His face is stern and unfriendly. It is always like that when he looks at them, Merlin thought. “You must always be good and kind to her.”_

_It was Arthur who answered for them both. Father never seemed to want to hear Merlin’s voice even at the best of times, which this certainly was not. “We have been, Father,” he assured him. “We always play the games she likes to play. We mind our manners, like Hunith wants us to. We -”_

_“I’ll not hear excuses, Arthur,” Father cut him off. “Morgana is clearly sad and upset, and I’ll not have any son of mine be the cause. If this continues, I shall give you another chance to familiarize yourselves with my belt, understood?”_

 

Merlin sighed when they finally reached their schoolroom. It wasn’t fair that he and Arthur were blamed for the way Morgana looked. As Merlin followed Arthur into the room where their tutor, Lucius, was waiting, he glanced over at Morgana. She was sitting at the large table that Lucius instructed them at, leaning her head on one hand while she idly flicked at the stylus in front of her with the other. Her skin was pale and she had dark rings under her eyes.

Arthur marched over to his spot on one of the benches, where his things had been left out for him. Merlin noticed that he resolutely didn’t look in Morgana’s direction at all. Arthur didn’t see, refused to see what Morgana looked like now. Even though Father blamed them for it, he wouldn’t look.

Merlin saw, though. He’d have to be the one to do something about it. For everyone’s sake.

Perhaps Mama could help.

* * *

Ygraine stared down tiredly at the latest petition. One of the Queen’s duties was to hear the petitions of the people, and it was one that she has always enjoyed. She loved to speak with the people, to see to their needs. The winter months in particular were hard for them, and it was her duty to see to easing those hardships as best she could. 

The war against Caerleon, the one that had cost Gorlois his life, had made things even more difficult on the people, what with the rise in taxes. People’s coin stores were thinner, which made the purchase of items they needed for the winter more difficult. Hence, the petition for aid to the widows and children of Camelot’s dead soldiers, which sat in front of her. The officers’ had a pension for their families should they die in battle, provided by the royal treasury, but for the common soldier, there was no such safeguard for those they would leave behind.

It was an important cause, one that deserved Ygraine’s full attention, she knew, and yet her thoughts remained distracted, focused on the three children that lived together sullenly in the nursery. Though she had been excited over the prospect of Morgana joining their family, Ygraine had been a little wary of how Uther had decided to handle the girl’s inclusion.

 

_Ygraine stared at her husband over the table on which they were sharing their evening meal, a rare, private meal between just the two of them. She tried not to let her incredulity show on her face. “Are you certain?”_

_He nodded as he drank from his goblet. Sitting it down on the table, Uther said, “Yes, I’m quite sure, my dear. Gorlois never felt the need to punish her harshly, even when she misbehaved. In truth, he refused to spank her at all, disliking the method. I’ll not see Morgana frightened by a spanking or switching the first time she acts out, and it would be against Gorlois’ express wishes. We must let her settle in, let her become used to us all. She’s not used to a large family, after all. It is bound to be scary for her, so we must let her relax among us.” He took a bite of his food, and after he swallowed, he added, “I’m sure she’ll be just fine soon enough, and will not give us a moment’s worry.”_

_Ygraine loved her husband, she truly did, but there were times when he really astounded her. He had two sons, and yet he remained utterly oblivious to the particulars of raising them and other children like them. Children needed structure, boundaries. If they knew where the lines were drawn that they must not cross, they would seek to avoid it, and if they didn’t, then proper consequences set in place for when they did would deter them, particularly if they endured those consequences. She hadn’t hesitated to spank or switch either of the boys when the situation called for it. It was never something she relished, but it provided them with the lesson of actions having consequences. Now Uther was demanding that they forgo all of that?_

_“I agree, the child will be uncertain and confused, Uther. But are we to be bound by Gorlois’ methods when they are not our own?” Ygraine asked slowly, “It wouldn’t be fair to the boys, and they’re bound to be jealous and resentful if we treat Morgana differently. Surely it would be better to set the rules into place at once, so that she knows them and can adapt accord -”_

_Uther cut her off, shaking his head. “No, it would only frighten her, Ygraine.” He remained adamant, and the discussion was eventually dropped._

 

She’d been skeptical about Uther’s decree then, and even more so now. After Uther’s explosive reaction to Merlin’s use of magic in Morgana’s presence, an enormous gulf had opened up between the girl and the boys. Arthur maintained a civil, polite attitude, but there was no warmth there. He refused to reach out to Morgana again. Merlin, for his part, tried to be welcoming and open to her, but Ygraine knew her son. He had a forgiving heart, but he did not forget. 

Morgana, though, was the one that truly worried Ygraine. She made no secret of her resentment against Arthur over him pulling her hair, or over him blaming her for Uther’s punishment. Thankfully, she seemed to hold no grudge against Merlin, at least, but again, their interactions were at best awkward. Then, as if that was not enough, Morgana’s behavior was beginning to change. She was settling in, as Uther had wanted, but the fact that Uther had forbidden anyone from administering any type of physical punishment should she misbehave was beginning to set on her mind. She was slowly becoming aware that she was nigh untouchable. 

Ygraine didn’t like it, not at all.

“My lady?”

She looked up, startled out of her thoughts. One of her companions, Lady Aine, stood in front of her, a stack of parchment in her hands. Aine had been with her since she’d married Uther, becoming one of her first ladies and one of the few who had chosen to remain with her permanently. Most of the women who became part of Ygraine’s household usually only became so a temporary basis. Most of them came to glean a polish amongst the court, as well as to seek out a potential husband from the knights or lords or lords’ heirs. A few, however, chose to remain with her instead of marriage. 

Aine, with her red hair and green eyes, was different, though. She was actually a few years Ygraine’s senior, a widow of one of Uther’s old friends who had died some years back. Aine had a grown son, who headed up their ancestral lands, and would have undoubtedly offered his mother a place in his home, but she had refused, instead choosing to stay in the service of Camelot’s Queen. Ygraine had come to rely on her good sense and keen eye for what went on in the court, and considered her a dear, close friend.

Straightening in her seat, she cleared her throat, responding, “Yes, Aine?”

The other woman curtsied to her, before saying, “Ida from the kitchens just sent up a message asking if you had the list of foods prepared for Prince Merlin’s birthday supper.”

Oh, yes, there was that, another instance of Uther’s uneven parenting. Every year on Arthur’s birthday, there had always been a grand feast to celebrate. This year Uther had even organized a tournament, which Arthur had absolutely _loved_. Merlin had too, of course, but his excitement had so worn him out that in the final hour of the tournament, he’d fallen asleep leaning against Ygraine’s side.

In contrast, Merlin’s birthday never even merited a toast from the court, much less a feast. The most that Uther could be convinced to endorse was a private meal for the whole family to partake in in the nursery, along with several hours of simple family time, unwatched by nobles or servants. The difference in how the boys’ birthdays were celebrated was enormous, and something Ygraine resented on her younger son’s behalf, but Merlin himself never seemed to find his birthday lacking. In truth, he seemed to absolutely love what they did for his birthday every year. He loved having his father pay him some positive attention for once, loved sharing his new toys with his brother. He never seemed to care that there were no public feasts for him, no tournaments held in his honor.

The meal, though, was something that took planning. Merlin was permitted to choose the menu for the supper, and Ygraine had to sit down with him before his birthday in order to give the cooks time to prepare the meal. Their time was valuable, given the approaching Yule, so it took planning and precision for them to get everything done.

Merlin’s birthday supper was tomorrow. Ygraine needed to get the list of requested foods down to the kitchens, hence Ida’s prompting message. 

Looking up at her lady-in-waiting, Ygraine shook her head. “I haven’t been able to meet with Merlin today. Could you go to the schoolroom and ask Master Lucius if he could spare the prince for about a half-hour. It shouldn’t take any longer than that for Merlin to decide what he wants to eat for his birthday.”

Aine smiled and curtsied again. “Of course, Your Majesty.” She turned and left the room at a swift, efficient pace, leaving Ygraine with the petitions she’d been working on and her ladies, who were seated by the fire across the room, all working diligently on their own tasks. They would undoubtedly remain at work for some time, which meant that she would have plenty of time to speak with her son.

* * *

Uther struggled to control his irritation as he strode through the corridors toward his wife’s chambers. He had asked Ygraine to make an order of clothing from the royal seamstresses for Morgana, and the order still had not come in. When he’d sent his manservant to inquire about it, he discovered that the order had never been made. It was upsetting, since he’d planned for the clothing - cloaks, gloves, scarves, and a few thick, winter dresses - to make up some of Morgana’s Yule gifts. If the order had not been made, then there would be no time to have them finished in time for the holiday, which would conclude in a week, when the presents would be exchanged. 

He finally reached Ygraine’s chambers and saw that the door had been left ajar. Uther raised his hand, intent on knocking before entering. The voices he heard coming from inside, made him pause for a moment. It wasn’t just his wife who was inside, but Merlin as well. Uther raised an eyebrow. The boy was supposed to be with their tutor at this time of day, but given that his birthday meal was tomorrow, it made sense that Ygraine had summoned him to plan the meal out ahead of time. Ygraine insisted on fussing over the boy for his birthday, an unnecessary expense in Uther’s opinion, but in truth, he did little enough to please Ygraine, so if it made her happy to make a to-do over the boy’s birthday, then it did no real harm, he supposed. Curious, he stayed his hand and listened.

The boy’s voice was thin and soft, not clear and confident, like Arthur’s, with hints of strength and authority that would undoubtedly grow. As a result, he could only hear a few of his words. Still, he heard enough.

“Morgana’s… don’t want… at my birthday…”

Shock swept through Uther. How could Merlin possibly be so cruel, to want to exclude Morgana from his party? Ygraine was always maintaining how kind, how sensitive the boy was, and then he says something like this? His shock was swiftly replaced by anger, and Uther didn’t even attempt to rein it in. Thrusting the door inward, it swung back into the room and slammed against the wall. He was satisfied when he saw the boy jump and whirl in his direction. He was even more satisfied to see fear cross the boy’s features. 

Aurelius had never looked at him that way, but this child that dared to carry Aurelius’ features more and more with every passing year certainly would. 

But that was beside the point. Uther stalked toward his younger son and his wife, the latter of whom looked vaguely alarmed, but he ignored her. Instead, he focused his ire on Merlin, who seemed to be trying to make himself as small as possible. “How _dare_ you?” he growled at the boy. “How can you be so cruel as to reject the Lady Morgana and bar her from sharing in our family?”

The boy’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Uther didn’t want to give him a chance to speak anyway. He continued, his fury building. “I cannot believe any son of mine would be so horrid, so _cowardly_ as to belittle a helpless, grieving little girl. You wicked, malicious -” Uther had stepped toward the boy, and could feel his hands clenching into fists. The boy shrank back from him, terror crossing his features. Uther wasn’t certain what might have happened if he’d actually gotten his hands on him - a switching, at the very _least_ \- but he never got the chance. Ygraine suddenly appeared, placing herself between Uther and the child.

“Husband,” she said, her expression firm, “calm down.”

He gaped at her incredulously. “Calm down? The boy is being deliberately mean and unkind to Morgana and you want me to _calm down_?”

“Yes, I do,” she replied grimly, “before you do something you’ll regret later.”

“Regret?” Uther glared over her shoulder at the boy, who was now shaking, tears falling pathetically down his cheeks. “I can’t imagine I’d ever regret beating his backside black and blue for such callousness. And did I not warn you and your brother about being unkind to her?” Merlin whimpered, and Uther sneered. How had he fathered such a weakling?

Ygraine placed a hand on his chest, forestalling another attempt to move toward the child. “I will deal with this, Uther,” she told him, her tone leaving no room for argument. “He sought to speak to me privately about this, and did not set out to deliberately hurt Morgana by saying so in front of her. He’ll not be spanked for speaking.”

Uther stared at her, and then narrowed his eyes. “You’re too soft on him, Ygraine,” he said, not for the first time. “But fine, you deal with the brat. And I’ll even give him what he wants. Morgana will not be attending tomorrow evening.” He moved his gaze back over his wife’s shoulder and met Merlin’s. “And neither will I,” he added. “I’ll not subject her or myself to the presence of such a cruel child.”

He stepped back and turned on his heel, ignoring the distressed cry and gibbering excuses coming from Merlin’s mouth. He swept out the door, paying no attention to the trembling ladies who had witnessed the entire scene from their corner.

* * *

The evening had been an uncomfortable one, but Arthur had no idea why. Merlin had been summoned from their lessons to attend their mother, likely to choose what food he wanted for his birthday, but he hadn’t returned to the schoolroom. Arthur as a result had been stuck with Morgana, who was listless and uncaring of her studies, which had frustrated the tutor. Lucius, an older man who was actually the cousin of the court archivist, Geoffrey of Monmouth, had little patience for those who did not do their very best in academics. Arthur knew that Lucius was very proud of Merlin and that his little brother was the tutor’s favorite, since Merlin seemed to soak up everything the old man had to teach.

Morgana, though, was barely paying attention, just sat slumped in her place and stared blankly out the window. Lucius had little success in trying to get her to pay attention, and his temper had steadily mounted. Because of that, he was shorter and more impatient than he normally was when he was assisting Arthur with his mathematics.

Something else to lay at Morgana’s feet, Arthur thought sourly. Not only was she ruining things for him and Merlin with Father, now she was making their lessons a misery too. 

In any event, it had been Mama who had brought Merlin back to the nursery, well after their time with Lucius had ended for the day. Arthur had immediately been concerned when he saw his brother, who was pale, red-eyed, and shaking. 

“What’s wrong?” he demanded as Merlin sat down next to him at the table. Merlin just shook his head, refusing to answer as he opened one of his books and began to pour over its pages.

Arthur switched his gaze to his mother, only to find her looking sad and weary. She looked at him for a moment and tried to smile, but he could clearly see she was upset. He watched her glance at Merlin, and then at Morgana, who was curled up by the fireplace, ignoring them all. Then, she said, “Enjoy your evening, my dears. I will say goodnight to you now, in case I do not see you until tomorrow.”

Still confused, Arthur nonetheless bid her goodnight, as did Merlin. Morgana, who looked half-asleep, muttered something incomprehensible. Arthur glared at her, but his mother only tightened her lips at the disrespect.

Supper was a subdued affair. Neither Merlin nor Morgana could be prevailed upon to eat much, though at least Merlin tried. He ate enough of his vegetables to satisfy Hunith, which was more than could be said of Morgana. She nibbled on a slice or two of duck, and a few pieces of fruit, but that was all. 

Father didn’t come to the nursery that night, so that was probably why Morgana was pouting, Arthur thought uncharitably. She didn’t have him to fuss over her, so she was doing her best to be difficult, likely hoping Hunith would call Father to nursery. Arthur was thankful that Hunith didn’t, just accepted that Morgana was eating lightly tonight. He really didn’t want to see his father behave like a besotted… something… over the girl yet again.

When it came time to go to bed, Arthur waited until Hunith had busied herself with supervising Morgana - the girl was whining and complaining about not wanting to sleep _again_ \- before he slipped into Merlin’s chamber. He watched from the doorway as Merlin obediently changed from his trousers and tunic to his nightshirt. Merlin even folded his clothes before neatly setting them on a stool next to his bed, where they’d be ready for him to take up the next day.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Merlin wasn’t a very messy person, of course, but usually he just threw his clothes on the stool and left them there. Why was he doing that? What was going on?

“Merlin?” he asked, and his eyes widened when his brother jumped. “What’s wrong?” he demanded yet again. 

Much to Arthur’s horror, tears filled Merlin’s eyes. His younger brother shook his head and climbed into his bed, but Arthur refused to let him get away. Someone or something had upset him, and Arthur would know the cause so that he could see the person or thing was properly punished.

 _Likely Morgana’s done something horrible again,_ something inside of Arthur said nastily.

Determined, Arthur hoisted himself up onto Merlin’s bed and gave him his best ‘I am the Prince of Camelot you must obey me’ look. He’d practiced it quite a bit to impress Father, but if it worked on his brother, so much the better.

It did, but Arthur couldn’t be entirely thankful for it. Merlin’s face crumpled and he sniffled, a tear trickling down his cheek. “I asked Mama if Morgana could not come tomorrow,” he said. 

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. Merlin had actually been trying to be nice to Morgana, even after she proved the worst sort of tattletale. Why the sudden change? He opened his mouth to ask, but Merlin beat him to it, seemingly reading his mind. “She’s sick, Arthur,” Merlin told him, rubbing one hand over his face tiredly. “She won’t eat good food, she keeps having nightmares, and she gets worse every day.”

Arthur snorted. He knew that, he just didn’t think she was sick. She was doing it on purpose, he just knew it. She wanted Father’s attention, so she did everything she could to get it. Unaware of his thoughts, Merlin continued, “I wanted Mama to take her to see Alice and Gaius, so they could help her get better.” He sniffled. “Then Father wouldn’t be so mad all the time.”

“Then why are you so upset?” Arthur asked.

Merlin’s expression was a complete misery. “Father was listening,” he replied. “He thinks I was being mean when I said I didn’t want Morgana.” He blinked rapidly, likely trying to push back any more tears. “It wasn’t that, Arthur! I promise! I just want things to be better! But Father said he wouldn’t come to my party tomorrow!”

Arthur stared at his brother for a moment, then sighed. “Don’t worry, Merlin,” he told his brother, crawling up to sit next to Merlin at the head of the bed. He wrapped an arm around his thin shoulders. “I bet Father just said it to scare you. He’ll be there. I just know it.”

Merlin clung to him. “But,” he said slowly, his tone lowering to that of barely more than a whisper, “what if Father thinks that both of us are being mean to Morgana, after he warned us not to?”

Arthur couldn’t help but shudder a little. He had no desire to meet his father’s belt again.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” his younger brother breathed. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, it isn’t,” he assured him quickly. “It’s not your fault at all.”

It was Father’s. It was Morgana’s.

* * *

The next day started out like any other for Morgana. Hunith dragged her out of bed even though she was exhausted. She was made to eat porridge, which settled unpleasantly on her stomach, but, thankfully, she still managed to keep down. She was dressed for the day, and then sent off for lessons that she had no interest in.

For all that, though, Morgana couldn’t help but feel a little bit excited. Today was Merlin’s birthday. According to Hunith, there was going to be a small party in the nursery with just the royal family later that afternoon. Just the king, the queen, the princes, and her. She’d been informed of this a little over a week ago, of course, and she and Hunith had even been allowed to take a walk into the market so that Morgana might pick something out as a present for Merlin’s birthday. It had been very fun, despite the cold weather.

It was strange, though. She’d watched the two boys during their lessons, when the tutor wasn’t watching. They seemed upset about something, particularly Merlin. Morgana was vaguely aware that something had happened yesterday to upset Merlin, but yesterday hadn’t been a good day for her, and her memory of most of it was fuzzy. 

Morgana thought about asking Merlin what was wrong. He had been nice in the weeks since her arrival, not like Arthur, who was mean and glared at her whenever he got a chance to. Merlin hadn’t seemed to hold _that night_ against her, seemed to understand that she hadn’t meant to get anyone into trouble.

He hadn’t shown her one spark of magic since then, though.

Whatever Morgana’s intentions, however, she never got a chance to ask Merlin what was going on. About an hour into their lessons, the door opened to reveal the king. Morgana immediately sat up straighter and could feel her spirits lifting. Perhaps the lessons were going to end now and the party was going to start. They could all spend the day having fun instead of listening to Lucius drone on about dead Romans that no one cared about.

Much to her surprise, however, Uther didn’t call a halt to the lessons. Instead, he said to Lucius, “I’ve come for the Lady Morgana. She’ll not be returning to her lessons today.”

The old man blinked, clearly surprised by the interruption, but bowed to the king. “Of course, Sire. As you say.”

Uther crossed the room to where Morgana sat, not even looking at Merlin or Arthur, who both were watching him with wide, hopeful eyes. Instead, the king just smiled down at her and held out a hand. “My lady? Would you come with me, please?”

She stared up at him in surprise, and then glanced over at the boys. Arthur looked stricken, but Morgana didn’t much care since he was mean. Merlin looked like he was going to cry. Morgana didn’t want him to cry. Merlin was nice. She liked him. She 

Morgana didn’t have a chance to say anything because that was when Uther scooped her up out of her seat and bore her out of the schoolroom without another word. It wasn’t until they were out in the corridor that she actually had a chance to speak. “Where are we going?” she asked.

Uther didn’t respond at first. He placed her back on her feet in the corridor and then led her further away from the schoolroom. “You and I are going to spend the day together, dearest,” he told her. “Just the two of us.”

Morgana was confused. “But,” she protested, “it’s Merlin’s birthday.” She’d been looking forward to it. She was so hoping that Merlin would like the pretty chess set that the toy maker had had displayed in his shop. He’d told her that it had actually been made far, far away, outside of Albion, and even beyond the Parting Seas and the land of the Franks. 

Uther nodded absently. “Yes, it is,” he said, “but I thought it would be fun for us to go for a ride outside the walls of the city, and then perhaps a picnic.”

She stared up at him. A picnic in the winter? Morgana had never heard of such a thing. Papa had taken her on the occasional picnic during the summer, when he was home and not off fighting for the king, but Cornwall’s winters were far, far too cold to do such a thing. 

Despite her concern for how Merlin had looked as Uther had carried her out, Morgana couldn’t help but feel excited. This was something she’d never known before. It could be fun.

* * *

Merlin stared down at the game that was laid out on the table in front of him. There were three pieces set upon it, one for him, one for Arthur, and one for Mama. There should have been a fourth, one for Father, but there wasn’t. There should have been a fifth, one for Morgana, but there wasn’t. 

There were only three, when there should have been five. _Would_ have been five, if Merlin hadn’t opened his big mouth yesterday, he thought bitterly. 

He could feel Mama’s worried gaze on him. Arthur’s too. They’d both been so forcefully cheerful since they’d all come together in the nursery, ready to spend the rest of the day without any worries. Both of them wanted this to be a good day for him, a fun day, like it was every year. 

“It’s your turn, darling,” Mama prodded him, her lovely voice gentle. 

Merlin nodded slowly, picking up a die and rolling it. He moved his piece the proper amount of space and continued on, following the rules of the game. It was his favorite, one he loved to play every year with his brother and his parents. But despite everything, there was something missing. Father wasn’t here, just like he’d said he wouldn’t be. Because he thought Merlin was a horrible, mean little boy who was being deliberately cruel to his new foster sister.

He watched vacantly as Arthur and Mama took their turns, and then it was his again. He could still feel Mama’s eyes watching him, and knew she was worried. She shouldn’t be worried, she should be happy. Merlin wanted everyone to be happy today. Why couldn’t everyone be happy, even if it was just for this one day?

Merlin picked up the die and rolled again.

* * *

Uther couldn’t remember when he’d had a lovelier day. He had obviously made the right decision in taking Morgana on an outing outside of the city walls. It was cold, to be sure, but Morgana was no stranger to cold weather, coming from Cornwall, and she was bundled up acceptably in a mixture of the garments she’d brought from Cornwall, such as her cloak, and one of the wool dresses that had been made for her in the early days after her arrival. 

Initially, Uther had planned to put Morgana on the pony that Merlin and Arthur had learned to ride on some years before, but Morgana had insisted on riding on his destrier with him. Uther had been hesitant, thinking that the powerful, willful animal might not take kindly to having another passenger on its back - Bucephalus was notoriously difficult for anyone but Uther himself; he didn’t even care much for Arthur - but Morgana had stared at the dark brown horse and said wistfully, “Papa always let me ride with him on his horse.”

Well, Uther had thought, if Gorlois had had no problem letting Morgana ride a war horse, then certainly it could do no harm for him to do the same. He’d keep Bucephalus in hand.

They didn’t go unaccompanied, of course. Uther wasn’t foolish enough to go riding out alone into the forests near Camelot which were, despite the best efforts of his knights, a haven for bandits and brigands. No, they had a set of three guards as their escort, but they were good, discreet men who wisely kept some distance between them, allowing Uther and Morgana their privacy.

After Uther gave a few discreet orders to his manservant, they rode for nearly two hours, even making it out to a nearby village. The people were, of course, not expecting a visit from their king, but they still came out of their homes and paid their proper respects. It being the depths of winter, there were no flowers, but a little girl did cautiously approach them and offer up a tiny bouquet of pressed lavender to Morgana, who took it with all the grace of a Queen in the making. Even if the offering was a little silly, coming from a child of three, at most, Morgana gave no sign and accepted it with every grace and dignity.

They did not remain long at the village, but instead began to ride back toward Camelot, though by a different rode, so that Morgana could see more of the surrounding area. When they came back into sight of the walls of the city in the afternoon, Uther was pleased to see that the orders he had given his manservant had been carried out. Under a copse of trees just within sight of Camelot, was a trio of servants, one of which was his manservant. They stood unobtrusively next to a thick coverlet, which had been laid down on the cold ground. On top of it were several dishes and bowls of food, as well as tankards of drink.

Morgana, who had been seated on Bucephalus in front of him, stared at the scene in front of her, and then looked up at him astonishment. “What’s this?” she asked him.

Uther smiled down at her. “Didn’t I promise you a picnic, sweetling? Here it is.”

One of the guards approached then, and Uther handed Morgana to him, letting the man lower her to the ground, and he swiftly followed. Uther watched, delighted, as Morgana scampered forward and fell to her knees on the coverlet, peering curiously at all of the food that had been laid out. It was a light fare, perfect for a picnic, but all of the foods were ones that Uther knew she enjoyed. He waved the guards and servants away before joining her on the coverlet and partaking in the food.

They ate with gusto, having built up an appetite from their riding and visiting with the villagers. Morgana was thrilled with the sweets, roasted duck slices, and bits of lamb. She was particularly pleased by the honey-soaked bread. Uther was glad that she didn’t have any problem eating the food. It more than confirmed to him that her problems with eating stemmed more from the company she shared in the nursery than the food itself.

Uther couldn’t stop himself from scowling, thinking of his sons and their cruelty toward Morgana. He hurried to dispel it, not wanting to ruin the happy mood. Morgana was perceptive, though, and looked up at him in concern. “Is something wrong?” she asked, popping another piece of sweet honey bread into her mouth.

Uther wanted to shake his head, to deny that there was anything amiss. It would preserve the happy atmosphere of their picnic, and things could go on as they had all day. But then Morgana looked at him, stared at him with a solemn gaze that did not invite patronization or evasion. That was a look Uther hadn’t seen in so many years, not since his mother died. She had been the only woman who could ever truly make him feel like a naughty schoolboy with just a single glance. And here she was, staring sternly at him again from the eyes of her granddaughter.

However, he thought he might be saved from answering her question when she frowned and glanced up toward the sky, which was partially obscured by the bare limbs of the trees they sat under. “It is growing late,” Morgana commented, and then she turned her gaze back onto him. “It’s Merlin’s birthday. Shouldn’t we go and join him and Arthur and Queen Ygraine? I want to give him his present.”

Another wave of fury fell on him. How could Merlin be so cruel? Morgana still wanted nothing more than to be kind to him, to celebrate his birthday, little realizing how unworthy the brat was of her goodness! Uther took a deep breath, preparing himself for the task ahead. Morgana needed to know the truth of the matter, despite the pain it would cause. She needed to understand what was going on.

So, he told her. Told her of how he had come upon Merlin talking to Ygraine, asking that Morgana be excluded from the party. He watched Morgana start, clearly shocked by the revelation, and her face began to crumple. Uther reached out to her, intending to offer her some comfort, and yet again he wished he could have given Merlin the thrashing he so dearly deserved. But yet again, the brat had been shielded by his doting mother. Ygraine had yet again shielded him from justice, and he couldn’t help but resent her for it.

Morgana didn’t let him hug her, though, instead pulling back. She stared up at him, tears shining in her beautiful eyes, but she still spoke in a steady voice. “You should still go, Sire,” she told him. “It wouldn’t be right for you to miss your son’s birthday.” She looked down at her hands, which were clenched in her lap, and added in a brave whisper, “I… I’ll be fine by myself.”

She was trying to be brave, the dear, dear girl. Uther’s heart swelled with love and pride. How kind she was in the face of cruelty! Even when Merlin had so grievously wronged her, Morgana sought to be good and charitable, wanting the boy to have his family present for his birthday, little though he deserved such consideration. This time, Uther didn’t let her stop him from reaching out and pulling her into his embrace. She stiffened briefly, but then sank into his arms, clinging to him.

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you, my darling girl,” he breathed. “There’s nowhere in all of Albion that I’d rather be than here with you.” Uther clutched her tightly for several moments, reveling in being able to hold her, and then continued, “Now, I thought we would ride out again to the west and visit another village. Then on our way home we could stop at the market within the city. Would you like that?”

Morgana leaned back and looked up at him. Her smile was as bright as the sun.

* * *

The night had fallen quickly, as it did in the winter, and the servants had made occasional, discreet appearances to make sure the fires did not burn out in the different rooms of the nursery chambers. Those fires also kept the room alight with a golden glow, warm and lovely against the cold darkness outside the windows. Still, for all that, the room had a terribly empty atmosphere about it, a feeling that only grew as the hours grew later and later.

By the time the midnight hour approached, Ygraine could barely bear to meet her younger son’s gaze. The party, despite the attempts of all three of them, had been a complete disappointment. Uther’s absence had been a constant irritant, and every time they heard the sound of footsteps coming toward the room, Merlin’s blue eyes would light up with hope. But in every instance, he had been disappointed when the door did not open to reveal his father. They had waited and waited, even unto well past the boys’ bedtime, but he never came.

She did admire her son’s composure, though. He had done exceptionally well in maintaining his control for most of their hours together, playing the games he loved to play with her and Arthur, and listening to her tell stories of the childhood scrapes she had gotten into with her brothers. It never ceased to amaze Merlin and Arthur both that their stiff and proper Uncle Agravaine had once poured a bowl of gravy over their great-aunt’s head on a dare from her and Tristan. 

Still, for all of the laughter that had sounded in the room, there was still a feeling of emptiness without Uther’s presence. Merlin had always cherished his father’s presence on his birthday, as that was the one day Uther would actually pay him some positive attention. Ygraine was not blind to Uther’s antipathy toward their younger son, but she was always grateful that he behaved appropriately toward their son on his birthday. Until now.

Now, Ygraine was sitting at the table with both of her sons, watching Merlin make every effort to eat the lovely food that the cooks had worked so hard on for him. Still, it did nothing to hide the increasing misery on Merlin’s face.

It was the last dessert that caused the dam to break, a fruit concoction with a lovely white topping, one that Merlin and Uther both greatly enjoyed. Ygraine and Arthur both watched as the tears that Merlin had been fighting back for some time finally welled and spilled down his cheeks. She instantly hurried to her feet and rushed around the table to sit down next to her younger son, pulling him into her arms. He flung his own arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. It still didn’t stop her from hearing him muttering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again.

“Oh, darling,” she said, rocking him, “this isn’t your fault.” And it wasn’t, she thought venomously. Yes, Merlin had been thoughtless in asking that Morgana be excluded, but Uther’s reaction had been highly disproportionate to the crime, especially given that Merlin’s attempt to say it outside of Morgana’s hearing meant that he likely hadn’t intended to be cruel towards the girl. Uther’s threat to punish Merlin physically for it had been bad enough, as had the additional claim that he and Morgana would not attend the party. Ygraine had spoken to her husband after that horrible confrontation, had tried to smooth things over. Uther was always of the opinion that she shielded Merlin far too much, made far too many excuses for him, but Ygraine had been hopeful that she’d had some success.

Until the party. Uther was a man who valued punctuality, and had never been late for anything in all the years that she’d known him. When he had not appeared on time for when it was set to begin, and Morgana was also nowhere to be found, Ygraine had known that he wouldn’t appear at all. He had actually held to his threat to not come, even knowing how much it would hurt their son. Fury swept through her.

Movement caught Ygraine’s attention at that moment, fortunately, so she was prevented from storming out to tear her husband to pieces. She looked up to see that Arthur had joined them and was rubbing his little brother’s shoulder, sympathy written all over his round features. His gaze, however, was focused on the door. No, not his gaze, but his _glare_. She sighed inwardly. It seemed that she had one heartbroken child and one angry, resentful child on her hands. 

What a mess.

Merlin’s attempts to seem perfectly at ease with the situation throughout the day appeared to have worn him out completely, because after several minutes, his sobs had faded and died out, leaving him more than half asleep in Ygraine’s embrace. After smoothing his hair with her fingers one last time, Ygraine slowly began to shift herself to her feet. The party was clearly over.

Her son was hardly the tiny boy he’d been a few years before, and thus it was quite a bit more difficult for Ygraine to carry him from the room, but she managed well enough. It also didn’t hurt that Arthur walked right alongside her, his hands holding onto his brother and taking some of the weight. Between the two of them, they managed to get Merlin into his chamber and then into his bed, beneath the warm furs.

Merlin whimpered a bit as Ygraine laid him down and tucked the furs and coverlets around him, but he didn’t open his eyes. She sighed quietly and reached out to him, brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead. “My poor child,” she whispered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Arthur nod in agreement to the softly worded statement. 

Once she was satisfied that Merlin was truly asleep and would not wake any time soon, Ygraine stood up from the bed and led Arthur out of the chamber. On her way to take Arthur to his own room, she paused to glance at her current surroundings. The remains of the party were still strewn everywhere - the games that she and her sons had played, trying to pretend that they were not missing the fourth player that should have been there; the food that Merlin so loved to both eat and share with his family, partaken in only halfheartedly.

Her anger began to spike again. This was supposed to be a happy day, a day for family. Why had her husband so determinedly ruined this day for all of them?

Doing her best to control herself, Ygraine led Arthur into his chamber. Words were not needed for Arthur to shimmy out of his clothes and into his nightshirt. As he clambered up into his bed, Ygraine sat down on the edge. For several moments, she found herself without words. Arthur had behaved very well throughout this entire travesty of a day, and yet she also knew her firstborn well enough to know that he blamed his father.

Arthur glared past her towards his door. “It’s her fault,” he muttered.

Ygraine blinked. “What’s that, dear?”

He looked at her. “It’s _her_ fault Father’s not here,” Arthur clarified, his face still twisted into an unhappy scowl. “She makes him think everything’s our fault, and she kept him away today. It wasn’t Merlin’s fault! He’s too nice and kept thinking that she was sick and needed help. He wanted Gaius and Alice to look at her, but she made Father think that he was doing it to be mean!”

It took a moment for Ygraine to work out the meaning of Arthur’s words. Merlin had wanted someone to help Morgana; that was why he hadn’t wanted her at the party? She closed her eyes briefly. Uther had misinterpreted a kind gesture from Merlin, thinking he was being cruel. So she had been right - her husband’s horrid tendency to think the worst of others had caused this entire miserable situation.

Still, it was just as worrisome to Ygraine that Arthur blamed Morgana, unlike Uther as she had assumed. It would only make things worse if Arthur lashed out at her as some kind of misguided payback. She reached out to her son, squeezing his hands in hers. “Arthur, it isn’t Morgana’s fault at all,” she implored to him.

His blue eyes were dark and angry. “Then whose is it, Mama?”

That left Ygraine without an easy answer. She couldn’t very well admit that it was his father that was truly at fault. Doing so would have Arthur questioning his father’s authority at every turn. Arthur held Merlin higher than anyone, and him truly thinking that his father’s behavior had been rooted in some strange need to disapprove of everything that made Merlin himself would only lead to disaster. For everyone.

There was, therefore, little more she can do but ignore the question. Instead, she said only, “Please, try to sleep, my dearest. Tomorrow will surely be a better day.”

Arthur gave her a look that seemed both pitying and scornful, but he lay back against his pillows as he was bidden to. Ygraine leaned forward and kissed his forehead before leaving him to sleep. As she stepped out, closing Arthur’s door behind her, she discovered that two servants had arrived and were clearing the table of its contents. Ygraine opened her mouth to tell the two that the leftovers should be preserved for the palace staff, just as they were every year, but their whispered conversation caught her attention.

“… minstrels have been playing for hours for them. Ever since they came back in for their picnic. Edgar and two of the kitchen maids have been running back and forth bringing them food and drink.”

The other nodded. “I passed by there on my way up here. I don’t think I’ve ever heard the king sound so merry, he was laughing so hard. And the Lady Morgana too. It’s certainly an improvement from -”

The servant, a young woman, cut her words off when her eyes landed on Ygraine and a flustered expression crossed her face. She immediately dipped into a respectful curtsey. Her counterpart, a young man, followed her lead and bowed. “Your Majesty!”

Ygraine didn’t acknowledge their addresses, but instead asked in a cool tone, “Where is the king?”

The young woman appeared a little nervous to be speaking to her, but she nonetheless answered promptly. “In the council chamber, Your Majesty. He is sharing a meal with the Lady Morgana.”

Ygraine nodded and made for the nursery door. Just before she reached it, however, it opened to reveal Hunith. The woman dipped a quick curtsey, but Ygraine waved her off. “The princes are tucked in, Hunith,” she informed her. “The Lady Morgana is not, but I’m sure she will be returned to the nursery soon enough.”

She barely heard Hunith’s response as she swept out of the nursery and into the corridor. Her heels were loud on the stone floor as she strode away, a disturbing picture forming in her mind. Uther had made it clear that he would not be attending the party, nor would Morgana. When she had gone to plead with him, to accept the entire situation as a misunderstanding, he had seemed to relent at least somewhat. But then he and Morgana had not appeared in the nursery at all for the entire day, effectively ruining everything for the rest of them. Now there was word of this private meal being shared between the two of them. Indeed, it sounded like more than a meal, if _minstrels_ , of all things, were involved.

Her husband had abstained from his son’s birthday celebration just so he could fuss over another child and have a different party with her.

Ygraine could feel her hands shaking as she strode through the citadel. At this late hour, there were few people about save for the guards, and they quickly moved out of her path the moment they spotted her. As she came closer to the council chamber, she began to hear the sound of music. Music, and then clapping. Music, clapping, and then laughter. Her husband’s laughter. A little girl’s laughter.

There were two guards stationed outside the door of the council chamber, Ygraine discovered as she approached. They quickly spotted her and she saw them glance at one another. “Your Majesty,” one of them said hesitantly, “the king specifically asked not to be disturbed ”

Ygraine didn’t care one whit what Uther had asked for right now. She didn’t bother responding to the guard or slowing her stride and they didn’t dare try to physically stop her from striding right past them and pushing the doors open.

The chamber was a mess, was her first thought as she took in the scene before her. The table, which had been pushed to the side of the room and up against the wall, was covered with untold numbers of dishes, all of them full of different foods and concoctions that were either half-eaten or barely touched. Ygraine noticed with considerable disapproval that nearly all of the dishes that showed signs of consumption were sweets and other such unhealthy things, rather than at least some of the more nourishing dishes. In addition to this particular clutter, there was the fact that a group of the court musicians were settled in the corner of the room, playing their instruments unceasingly. Their instrument cases were piled haphazardly nearby against the wall, as if thrown there in haste. Also present were a trio of servants, including Uther’s manservant, Edgar, just as the servant in the nursery had mentioned. Ygraine didn’t have to look at them or the musicians very closely to see the exhaustion in their faces.

To top off this entire tableau were Uther and Morgana. The girl was at the center of the room, twirling and leaping about in time with the music, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright, no doubt from the copious amounts of sugary sweets she’d consumed, Ygraine thought, irritated. Uther sat in a chair a few feet away, leaning on one arm as he watched Morgana dance. There was a delighted smile on his lips as he gazed at the girl, like she was the only person in the world who mattered one bit to him. 

As though his wife and sons didn’t even exist.

The minstrels were the ones who first noticed her presence, and the music slowly came to a halt. The loss of the sound caused Uther to look up, annoyance crossing his features, annoyance that quickly fell away and was replaced by something Ygraine couldn’t define when he noticed her. For several moments, there was a tense, uncomfortable silence, until Uther finally stood up and spoke. “My lady.” That was it. Two words.

Fortunately, Ygraine had many more, but first things first. “It is quite late, my lord,” she informed him, not breaking his gaze. “I believe it is time the Lady Morgana was off to bed.”

Though she still had her eyes firmly resting on her husband, she could still make out the noticeable slump of relief in the shoulders of several of the musicians. It was Morgana who raised her voice in protest. “But I don’t want to!” she cried. “I’m not tired! The king and I are having fun, and he said this was to be our special day, just for us!”

Shock flooded her and she stared at her husband even more closely. Was it true? Had he truly told the girl such a thing, that this day of all days was to be _their_ special day? This day which was the anniversary of her son’s _birth_?

Uther said nothing to deny it. He remained completely silent, in fact. Narrowing her eyes, Ygraine said in as calm a voice as she could manage, “Nonetheless, you have lessons tomorrow, Morgana. You will need to be well-rested in order to do your best. Edgar, if you would escort her to the nursery. Mistress Hunith will be there to meet you.”

The manservant appeared from out of her line of sight and came to stop next to Morgana. He laid a gentle, guiding hand on the girl’s shoulder, but she jerked away from him. “No!” she shouted. “I don’t _want_ to sleep!”

Now Ygraine finally turned to look at Morgana, appalled by her behavior. Why wasn’t Uther scolding her for such conduct? If Arthur or Merlin had acted like this, he would already be roaring at them, making them cower and swear to never behave so again. Instead, he said nothing while Morgana repeatedly flouted his wife’s instructions. Taking a deep, steadying breath to control her growing anger, she said, “Morgana, you know that it is the duty of every citizen of this kingdom to obey the King and Queen. I have given you an order. Go with Edgar back the nursery. Now.”

The girl glared at her, her green eyes still glittering from the sugar she’d consumed and her fists clenched at her side. Nevertheless, she still gave in and allowed Edgar to take her hand. Before the manservant could lead her out, though, Morgana turned back one more time to Uther. “Will you come to the nursery to tuck me in and tell me a story?”

Uther looked at her and his expression softened. Ygraine knew then that he was going to say yes. He was going to promise the child that he would come to the nursery and fuss over her and no doubt keep her up even later, likely even making enough noise to wake the boys up from their own troubled slumber. Another attempt to undermine Ygraine’s orders, one that she wouldn’t tolerate any more than the others. Uther was most assuredly _not_ going to go to the nursery to fuss over one child after having dealt such a grievous blow to another. So before her husband could say a word, Ygraine cut in, “The king and I have many things to discuss this evening, Morgana. You are a big girl and can go to sleep without a story, and Hunith is excellent at tucking people in. Now, say goodnight.”

Again, Morgana scowled at her. She then quickly tugged her hand loose from Edgar’s and darted over to Uther, hurrying into his arms. He hugged her to him tightly, and she whispered her thanks in his ear. “It was such a wonderful day,” she added before also kissing him on the cheek. Much to Ygraine’s consternation, Uther allowed the obvious defiance and returned her kiss with one of his own. Only then was Edgar allowed to lead Morgana out of the room.

Throughout the entire exchange, the musicians had been hurriedly packing their instruments away and the other two servants were gathering up some of the food from the table. Within moments, they had followed Edgar and Morgana out the door, finally leaving Ygraine alone in the room with Uther.

Before Ygraine could so much as get a word out, Uther gave her a reproving look, saying, “It was most unkind of you to speak that way to Morgana, my lady.”

Ygraine fairly gaped at him. “Unkind? I instructed her to go to bed, as it was long, long past the time for when she should have been there, and she flagrantly defies me, and you call me ‘unkind’? Her behavior is not that of a nobly born young lady, but of a defiant child. Under other circumstances, that would have earned her a spanking at the very least.”

A warning expression crossed Uther’s face, and he said, “I forbade the use of such punishments, Ygraine. I -”

Ygraine waved her hand, cutting him off and saying, “Yes, yes, I remember that you wish to continue Gorlois’ unfathomable parenting methods of indulging and coddling the girl to the point of making her practically unmanageable. That is not why I am here.”

Uther scowled, clearly disliking her views on the subject, but he seemed unwilling to argue the point. “Then why are you here? Could it not have waited until morning?”

“No,” she snapped, crossing her arms in front of her, “it could not. How could you, Uther? How could you deliberately not attend your own son’s birthday party? How could you be so cruel?”

He sighed impatiently and turned away from her, choosing to sit back down on his chair. “It wasn’t cruelty, Ygraine, it was a lesson. The boy needed to be reminded of his duty to his new sister.” He picked up a goblet that had been sitting on the floor next to his chair and took a long drink from it. “If anything,” he added after he swallowed the liquid, “the punishment was a lenient one, given his transgression.”

Ygraine pressed her lips together, her anger growing. “His ‘transgression’, as you call it, was not a transgression at all,” she replied. “Apparently, Merlin asked that Morgana not come to the party because he wanted her to be looked at by Alice and Gaius. He believed her to be ill. Granted, it was a little silly to think that she’d have to miss the party in order to visit the physician and healer, but he’s nine years old! Nine-year-olds don’t always have the best thought out plans in the world. But,” she added sharply, “we would have known this if you hadn’t resorted to eavesdropping at my door like some common spy and then lashed out like a madman instead of just _listening_ to your own son!”

Uther’s faced darkened at the well-aimed insult, and he glared. “Nonsense, Morgana is perfectly fine,” he growled. “You saw for yourself. She dances beautifully and is full of energy, hardly the behavior of a sick child. The boy was just being spiteful.” An expression that was almost malicious crossed over his face and he added, “Still, you should be happy, Ygraine. The boy got what he wanted, after all. Morgana wasn’t there, leaving him to have a fine time with you and his brother. I chose not to attend merely to express my disgust for his behavior toward Morgana, which is my duty. I could have done much worse. I didn’t bar Arthur from attending, nor did I insist on a meal of boiled fish or cabbage, which would have been well within my rights.”

For a moment, Ygraine was left speechless by her fury. That much was true - it _could_ have been much worse. If Uther had demanded that Arthur not be in the nursery today, had even decreed that he was to come with him and Morgana, if he had ordered that only certain foods be sent to the nursery, no one would have been able to refute him, not even Ygraine herself. Nonetheless, she maintained that this horrible situation could be laid at Uther’s feet, and she wanted him to acknowledge it, wanted him to admit that he had overreacted. Perhaps then everything could be salvaged, not the least of which any sense of peace in the nursery between Morgana and the boys. 

Uther didn’t give her a chance to say any of this. Instead, he knocked back another gulp of his drink and slumped in his chair. “It’s for the best,” he muttered. “The boy got what he wanted, and I didn’t have to endure another senseless waste of time and money for something not worth celebrating.”

The words were like a physical blow, and Ygraine couldn’t help but stagger back a step or two. Had Uther really said that, claimed that Merlin’s birthday wasn’t worth celebrating? How… _why_ would he say such a thing? Any child’s birth was a cause for celebration. Given Merlin’s early harrowing months, when no one could say with any certainty if he would live to see his first birthday, it seemed even more prudent to give thanks every year, because he had _lived_ , despite the great odds stacked against him.

Merlin was _their son_. How could Uther be so cruel as to see him as something that was worthless?

“We _made_ him,” she said, her voice thin and soft to the point of pleading. “He is _our boy_.”

Uther said nothing. He seemed frozen in his seat now, his goblet held out a few inches in front of him. The drink had loosened his tongue, she thought, made him say things he wouldn’t normally, made him say things that he held inside.

He had thought this way for a while, and Ygraine had never known, never even _suspected_. “Both our sons are precious,” she breathed. Then the anger began to return, and with it strength. Her tone began to rise again. “How can you view one of them as worthless? _What is wrong with you?!_ ”

Uther did not respond at first. There was a faint flush in his cheeks, likely caused by the drink, but his eyes were cool. “You are tired, wife,” he said calmly. “Go to bed. You will be more composed tomorrow.” He didn’t give her time to retort, instead thrusting himself out of his chair and striding out of the room, leaving her to stand there in the midst of a party that mocked every part of her family.


	4. Chapter Three

Arthur didn’t go to sleep after his mother saw him off to bed. Instead, he lay in his bed, his eyes on the crackling fire just across his chamber and his hearing directed toward the door, listening intently for any sound that might come from his brother’s chamber. If Merlin should wake up and still be upset, he wanted to get to him as quick as possible.

Still, listening also gave him time to get good and mad. This was _Merlin’s_ special day! Why did Morgana get to ruin it? It wasn’t fair. She already made Father like her more than him and his brother, but now she had to actually ruin their birthdays too? Would Father decide he’d rather spend the day with her instead of attending the celebrations for Arthur’s own birthday too?

His thoughts kept coming back to that disturbing idea for a while, so long that Arthur almost fell asleep over it, but he was brought back to full alertness when he heard voices coming from beyond his door. He sat up, listening attentively. It didn’t take more than a moment to hear and recognize Hunith’s familiar voice, and only another second to hear Morgana’s shrill tones. Arthur’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he kicked at his furs, slipping out of bed. He walked quietly over to his door opening it to see what lay beyond it. The room was empty, though much of the food and their earlier games were still strewn about, despite the servants having stopped by earlier to get some of it picked up. 

The voices were coming from the other door across the room from Arthur’s own, louder. Arthur glanced worriedly toward Merlin’s door, but it remained shut and he couldn’t hear any sounds behind it. Merlin was still asleep, thank goodness. He didn’t want to have wake him up and be upset by Morgana’s inability to keep her voice down. Turning back toward Morgana’s door, he stepped forward.

The door was only open by about a foot, but the faint light of candles and a burning fire poured out into the darkness where Arthur walked. He stopped at the door and peeked inside, listening.

“It’s not fair!” Morgana was complaining. “The king and I were having fun! I don’t _want_ to go to bed!”

The king and her… Arthur ground his teeth. They were having _fun_ while Merlin was crying himself to sleep? He pushed the door open quietly and leaned against the frame, watching the scene unfold in front of him. Neither seemed to have noticed his arrival.

“Lady Morgana,” Hunith said, her tone stern, “it is very late, well past your bedtime. You will be very tired tomorrow during your lessons, and it will be hard for you to concentrate and do your very best for Master Lucius. Besides, Her Majesty has given you a command, and it is your duty to obey.” 

Morgana scowled. She was standing next to her dressing table, glaring sullenly at Hunith, who was rifling through Morgana’s wardrobe. Probably looking for her nightgown or something, he thought. Morgana’s own dress was wrinkled and even stained in several places with food and drink. Whatever she’d been doing, it had involved things like that. 

“The queen’s mean,” Morgana muttered. “She got to have a party with Arthur and Merlin. It’s not fair that she made me go to bed when the king and I were having fun on our own. She was nasty! Wouldn’t even let the king come tuck me in!”

Fury erupted in Arthur, and he didn’t hold himself back. He knew what he was about to say would earn him a belting unlike he’d ever had before if those words ever reached his father’s ears, but he didn’t care right now. Drawing himself up to his full height which, admittedly, wasn’t much taller than Morgana, he spoke up. “Don’t you say such things about the queen,” he snapped, doing his best to sound as authoritative as he could. He was the eldest Prince of Camelot, the future king. It was his right and duty to defend the queen from people saying horrible things about her. He glared at Morgana, who had jumped when he’d made his presence known. “You are our guest, Morgana,” he reminded her, his eyes narrowed angrily. “It’s rude to say bad things about your host. My mother opened her home to you out of kindness, and you repay her by insulting her. Are you really so ungrateful?”

Arthur likely would have continued his tirade, would have continued berating her until she was in tears, but Hunith intervened. “That’s enough, Your Highness,” she said sternly. She had found Morgana’s nightgown and was moving toward the girl, who was white with anger. “You should be in bed. Off you go.”

Arthur wasn’t about to disobey Hunith and add that to the list of offenses that would likely be taken to his father, so he pushed off of the doorframe, turned on his heel, and returned to his chamber. He did stop before entering to check on Merlin, but, thankfully, he was still asleep. He hadn’t woken during Arthur’s rant.

* * *

The following morning, Morgana felt terrible. It began right from the moment Hunith came in to roust her from what little sleep she had managed to get since she’d arrived back in the nursery the night before. Her head and belly both ached, and she was exhausted. She hadn’t wanted to leave the warmth of her bed, which had let her at least be a little comfortable, but Hunith would tolerate no excuses. The nurse was still very irritated from the previous night.

 

_Morgana could feel her hands shaking as she watched Arthur walk away. How dare he… how_ dare _he speak to her that way. She was only speaking the truth, after all! She and Uther had been having a wonderful time together until Queen Ygraine had come in and ruined everything. Arthur had no right to say such things to her! Uther had said that this was her home; she wasn’t a guest!_

_Morgana bit back a wave of frustrated, angry tears. “I’ll tell Uther about what he said,” she muttered, rubbing her arm over her eyes, “he’ll be sorry then!”_

_“No, you will not,” Hunith spoke up, her voice implacable and calm. Morgana jumped, surprised at how close the nurse had come to her. She didn’t have a chance to say anything as the woman began to pull at the buttons of her dress, tugging the garment off of her. “You spoke very disrespectfully of the Queen, which will not please the king at all, Morgana. Prince Arthur was defending his mother’s name.”_

_Morgana stared at her, shocked. Hunith had always been nice to her, had never acted like she had any less right to be there than Merlin or Arthur. Now she was actually_ siding _with Arthur?_

_Tears filled her eyes and Morgana didn’t have the strength to try and fight them back anymore. She sniffled as Hunith drew her nightgown down over her head. The fabric smeared one of the tears that had fallen, but it was quickly replaced by the many that followed._

_When Hunith saw how distraught she was, the woman’s stern expression softened a little. Taking Morgana gently by the hand, she led her over to the bed and sat down with her. She then wrapped her arms around Morgana’s shoulders and pulled her into an embrace. Part of Morgana, the part of her that was proud and didn’t like to have people see her as weak, wanted to pull away, but she hadn’t the strength. Instead, she sank into Hunith’s arms and cried._

_“Shh,” the older woman soothed, running her fingers through Morgana’s tangled curls. “Don’t cry, child. The king need not know of any of this, so nothing more will be said.”_

_She thought Morgana was afraid that Uther would be angry with her? Morgana wanted to laugh, but she was just so wrung out, she didn’t have the energy. So she just let Hunith hold her for a few minutes, until the nurse helped her under the coverlet of her bed and left her to sleep._

 

Her sleep had been fitful, and she’d woken up feeling more miserable than she’d felt in weeks. Morgana had been forced out of bed nonetheless for her lessons, but she’d steadfastly refused to eat anything at the table, no matter what Hunith tried to tempt her with. Arthur glared at her nastily, but Morgana was rather becoming used to that. Merlin wouldn’t look in her direction at all, and he looked nearly as bad as she felt.

Morgana refused to feel sorry for him. Merlin deserved whatever he got at this point, for being such a beastly little brat.

The day didn’t get any better as time passed. Master Lucius was trying to teach them about the chaos that had engulfed the kingdom before Uther had claimed the throne from his predecessor, but the pain she kept experiencing in both her head and her belly occupied much more of her attention. The tutor didn’t dare scold her too harshly for her inattention, though, because Uther had forbidden it, much to Morgana’s relief. She had never seen Lucius discipline anyone beyond a scolding or forcing them to stand in the corner, and she wasn’t eager to find out just what he could do.

Since the tutor was unable to take her to task, he seemed to have no other recourse but to vent his frustration on Arthur and Merlin. “Sit up, Prince Merlin,” the old man snapped more than once. “Pay attention, Prince Arthur,” was something else he said, usually when Arthur was either watching his brother or glaring at her.

The tension in the schoolroom did nothing to improve how Morgana felt. By the time their lessons ended, her head was nearly splitting with pain, to the point that she wanted nothing more than to go back to her bed and close her eyes against the world. Maybe if she slept, the pain would stop.

Morgana didn’t get the chance to, though. After Lucius released them from the schoolroom, Hunith appeared to shepherd the three of them back to the nursery. Once there, Morgana tried to slip away to her room to lie down, but Hunith refused. “Master Lucius has several responses that he wants you to write, my lady,” she said sternly before slipping out the door on some errand. “Since you were not paying attention to his words, then you must learn this way.”

Thus, Morgana was set down at the table with a well of ink, a quill, and some parchment. There was some food at the other end of the table, left there for all three of them to eat as they liked. The boys had helped themselves to some cheese and fruit and milk, but Morgana couldn’t even bring herself to look at the offerings. She soon found, though, that she was the only one expected to do these assignments. Arthur had settled down by the window to read a book, while Merlin sat on the floor just a short distance away from Morgana, playing with a wooden toy horse.

She scowled, watching the younger boy. _He_ got to play, while she had to sit here and write. _He_ got to be happy, while she felt horrible. _He_ got to have a party, while she got sent to bed by a mean old lady. _He_ got to say he didn’t want her at his party and not get punished, while she was yelled at for just speaking the truth that Ygraine was that mean old lady. It wasn’t _fair_.

It wasn’t fair, so that was why Morgana was on her feet before she even knew what she was doing. Stepping around the table, she crossed the small distance between her and where Merlin sat with his toy. She ignored the way Arthur’s head shot up from out of the corner of her eye, and just focused on the boy in front of her.

“What are you playing with?” she demanded.

Merlin looked up at her, eyes dull and wary. “Bucephalus,” he said. “Like Father’s horse.”

Morgana had once had a similar toy, one she’d named after her papa’s horse too. It had been left behind in Cornwall, along with practically all of her toys. It was something else he got that she didn’t. Maybe it was that anger that prompted all that came next.

“That’s a baby’s toy,” she informed him. He glared at her, but didn’t reply. Wanting more of a response, Morgana continued, asking, “Are you a baby, playing with a baby’s toy?”

Merlin bit his lower lip, probably to keep from saying something, but Morgana reveled in the motion. He couldn’t retaliate, not without incurring Uther’s wrath. Uther would keep her safe from any meanness. 

He looked away from her a moment later, focusing on the toy, and Morgana pursed her lips, annoyed. She wanted him to _pay attention_. Leaning down, she yanked the horse out of his hands and took a step or two back.

Now she had Merlin’s attention. He leapt to her feet, his blue eyes wide with anger. Before he could say a word, though, Arthur appeared at his side, looking furious. “Give it back, Morgana,” the older prince growled. “It’s not yours.”

Now she had both their attentions, which thrilled her. She’d be able to get back at them both now for being so nasty and cruel to her. “No,” she said, taunting them with her most innocent smile. 

Arthur’s fury seemed to increase. “Give it back or I’ll tell my mother!” he threatened.

Morgana did her best to hide a small flinch, and just raised herself to her full height. “She can’t do anything,” she retorted, “the king won’t let her.”

Arthur’s hands were shaking, and she knew he wanted to hit her, wanted to _hurt_ her. He even took an aggressive step toward her, obviously ready to rip the stupid horse from her hands. Morgana laughed and danced back, “Ah ah! Uther will spank you if you touch me!” she reminded him. 

That made Arthur pause, clearly remembering the threat Uther had given him all those weeks ago. Merlin, who had been silent for some time, stepped up next to his brother. His skin was pale, making his eyes stand out even more from his face. “Give it back, Morgana. Please,” he begged, his gaze on the toy still clenched in her hand.

She looked at both of them, reveling that _she_ was the one who would come out the winner this time. They had been so mean to her, and now she was able to get back at them. She wasn’t about to stop now. Morgana gave him her best, superior look and then said, “This is for your own good.” Then she raised her arm and reared back before flinging the toy at the wall as hard as she could. Merlin’s shrill cry echoed throughout the room as the toy smashed into dozens of pieces.

* * *

Ygraine had not slept well at all. After Uther had left her incredulous and seething, there had truly been nothing for her to do _but_ return to her chambers and go to bed. Thankfully, Aine had dismissed most of her ladies for the night, leaving just Ygraine’s maidservant and Aine herself to help her prepare to settle into sleep. Uther did not join her, but then, that wasn’t all that unusual. He’d been visiting her bed far less frequently for some time now, really since Morgana’s arrival in Camelot.

The following day, she had risen from her bed fully intending to find Uther and _make_ him see sense, though the how of it still eluded her. However, by the time she was dressed and striding through the citadel, her ladies scurrying along behind her, Ygraine was given the news that her husband had ridden out to inspect some nearby fields. It was a pitiful excuse, given that Yule itself wasn’t long away, but she’d had no choice but to accept it. She had, however, sent two messages - one to Master Lucius, asking him to lighten the boys’ workload a little today, given the stressful day they’d had, and one to the arms’ master, excusing Merlin and Arthur both from their weapons’ lesson for the day. Both were bound to be tired and wrung out from yesterday’s stressful events, which was hardly a good state to be in while dealing with weapons, even if they were blunted ones. 

Her acceptance of Uther’s supposed absence did nothing for her pent-up energy and anger, though. Ygraine tried to busy herself with the Yule preparations, but found herself distracted at best. Thankfully, her ladies were all well-educated in such duties and took up the majority of the tasks, leaving her with only having to provide minimal oversight. By the time the afternoon bells had rung, Ygraine found that there was nothing left for them to do for the day, so she dismissed her ladies to have some free time while she decided to visit the nursery. She had not yet seen Merlin, and had worried that he might still be suffering from the horrible let-down Uther had visited upon him. 

She could go and see Uther, she supposed as she walked the corridors of the citadel, but the passage of time had actually made her reluctant to confront him. Ygraine was still furious, true. How could she not be when he as much admitted that he viewed one of their children as worthless? But Uther was a stubborn man, as immovable as the mountains when the mood struck him. He always had been rather detached from Merlin, ever since he was born. When Arthur had been born, Uther had been proud as a peacock, and had no problem carrying him about before the court, showing him off. After five years of no sign of any child and increasing murmurs that Uther should put her aside, Ygraine felt that they both had a right to gloat a little, even if she did understand where many of the nobles were coming from in their requests. 

When Merlin had been born, however, there had been none of that. Granted, the circumstances were much different. Though the birth had actually been much easier on her than Arthur’s had been, Merlin had been a sickly baby, so much that Gaius and Alice had both doubted he’d survive the winter. Ygraine had refused to accept such an eventuality. She had waited so long to have children, and while Arthur was deeply treasured, Merlin was even more of a miracle. Gaius and Alice hadn’t even believed she would be able to have another child after her firstborn, but here she had done so, and given birth with relative ease. So she had thrown their dismal predictions to the side and devoted every waking moment she could to her baby son. Every need and desire was provided. He was kept warm and well-fed, having been provided for by the same wet nurse that had served Arthur. Alice helped to give him simple broths that would increase his strength and vitality. 

It had been a hard struggle through that winter, but they had made it. Spring came, and with it new life, just as it did every year. Only, that year also gave Merlin a healthy second wind. Ygraine had never known such relief and joy. Her baby would live. 

In thinking back to those difficult months, though, Ygraine could see now that Uther had been noticeably absent for much of that time. He visited the nursery, of course, but had barely paid any attention whatsoever to Merlin, instead focusing on Arthur. Uther had heard the same dire predictions about Merlin’s life expectancy that she had, she realized. Had he perhaps given up then, preferring not to become attached to a child that would likely not live to see the spring? 

It made sense. Ygraine had thrown herself into ensuring her son’s survival, but Uther had kept himself at a distance, not taking the time to bond with Merlin in those early months. Then he had survived, against all odds, and by then Merlin had his mother’s unwavering devotion, as well as the affection of his older brother and practically the entire nursery staff. 

Ygraine hadn’t even paid her husband much attention once she had recovered from the birth, being as focused as she was on Merlin. Had… Had Uther been _jealous_? Had he envied his son the attention Ygraine had lavished on him?

It was almost too ridiculous to contemplate, the idea that her husband, a grown man and king, was jealous of a little boy, and the idea that a father could begrudge his baby son his mother’s love.

She sighed, shaking her head as she finally approached the open door of the nursery. Ygraine frowned when she heard raised voices coming from inside. Hunith did not permit the children to shout at each other, and indeed, Merlin and Arthur rarely ever did so. What was going on?

She pushed the door open quietly and quickly focused her attention on what was happening. Horror swept through her as she watched Morgana tease and torment Merlin with his toy horse, something Ygraine recognized as the gift Uther had given to him on his birthday the year before. Merlin had loved the toy the moment he laid eyes on it and declared it his favorite almost immediately. 

Arthur was clearly incensed by her behavior and tried to intimidate Morgana in giving the horse back to Merlin. Morgana had no fear of him, though, insisting that, “Uther will spank you if you touch me!”

Ygraine’s horror was replaced with anger. The girl was actually _threatening_ the boys with a spanking from Uther if they tried to stand up to her? Not for the first time, she cursed Gorlois’ lax parenting. He had overly indulged the girl and now she and the boys were stuck with dealing with the fallout. Ygraine was torn, in truth. Part of her was tempted to scold the girl severely, to use the perfect words and threats to put fear of God into her, while another wanted to grab her and march her off to Uther and demand that _he punish_ her for such behavior. If either of the boys had behaved so to someone else, they’d get a switching at the very least. If Uther was so set on following Gorlois’ insipid example, then he could come up with an alternative form of punishment. There had to be _some_ way of making the girl behave in an acceptable manner. 

Her heart twisted painfully as Merlin begged for Morgana to return the toy, only to be forced to watch her hurl the toy against the wall as hard as she could before Ygraine could lunge forward to stop her. As it was, she couldn’t restrain a shocked gasp as Merlin cried out at the toy’s destruction, and it was loud enough to catch all off their attention. 

Arthur was the first to react. “Mother,” he said, using the more formal term instead of calling her Mama as was his usual wont, “ _she_ broke -”

“Yes, Arthur,” Ygraine interrupted, doing her best to remain calm. Now was not the time to lose her temper. “I saw what she did.” Turning her gaze on the girl, who had lost her arrogant smirk and now was looking at her with a pale face. “Lady Morgana,” she said, “please go to your room, now. I will join you soon and we will… _discuss_ your current behavior.”

If anything, Morgana seemed to lose even more color about her cheeks. It wasn’t helped when Arthur turned in her direction and smirked, saying in a low, vicious tone, “Now you’re going to get it!” He clearly thought Morgana was going to receive a spanking for her abominable behavior, and was relishing in it. 

Had the relations between her eldest and Morgana truly fallen so far, Ygraine wondered? She had hoped that he wasn’t truly so set against the girl, but the fact that he seemed to _relish_ the idea that Morgana was going to be punished certainly put paid to that wish. Pressing her lips together firmly for a moment, she gave Arthur her sternest glare, saying, “That’s enough, Arthur. Such words are not appropriate.”

Arthur subsided obediently enough, though he didn’t stop glaring at Morgana. The girl, on the other hand, seemed to appear ready for one last display of bravado. Before Ygraine could repeat her instructions, Morgana stared up at her defiantly and said, “You can’t do anything to me. The king won’t allow it.”

Anger flashed through her. The girl was actually _questioning_ her? She was actually saying that Ygraine had no authority over her? Again, she cursed Uther’s moratorium on spankings for the child. She was convinced that one good hiding would do wonders for her. She’d straighten up quickly, if only to avoid another such punishment. Giving the girl her severest glare, she replied, “Don’t be so sure, child. Go to your room.” She didn’t break her gaze on the girl, though her attention was directed toward Merlin, who had been kneeling over his broken toy the entire time, crying quietly. 

Morgana tried to hold her gaze, but seemed to wither under Ygraine’s unyielding stare. Suddenly, she turned away and darted toward the door of the nursery. “Morgana,” Ygraine said sternly, “I said go to -” She didn’t get to finish when Morgana threw the door open and darted out of the room and into the corridor. 

Ygraine had no choice but to follow. Thankfully, Arthur had turned his attention to comforting his brother, which left her to pursue Morgana. As she swept out of the room, she found Aine waiting for her. One questioning look was all it took and her chief lady-in-waiting pointed to her right. “She went that way, Your Majesty,” Aine informed her.

She nodded and began the hunt. Thankfully, her own familiarity with and Morgana’s limited knowledge of the citadel meant that it did not take long for Ygraine to find her again.

* * *

Arthur didn’t watch his mother leave the room to chase after Morgana. Instead, he looked at his younger brother, who was staring at the toy with the saddest expression on his face. He knew that Merlin loved the horse, mostly because Father was the one who had given it to him. It was the one toy Merlin refused to share, just like Arthur hated to share his knight, Sir Goodwin. 

Now it was in pieces, because _Morgana_ was a selfish _brat_.

Merlin sniffled, scrubbing a fist over one of his eyes to wipe away the tears. Though at a loss as to how to comfort him, Arthur still knelt down next to his younger brother. “I’m sorry, Merlin,” he said, not sure what else to say.

Merlin nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off of the broken horse. “Father gave it to me,” he murmured.

Arthur nodded. “I know.” Slowly, he wrapped his arm around Merlin’s thin shoulders. “Don’t worry,” he tried to reassure him, “I’ll get you a new one. Next time we get to go down to the market with Hunith.”

It was then that Merlin finally looked up at him. His blue eyes were bright with tears, and his smile was sad, but he reached out and hugged him for a moment. When he pulled back, Arthur saw that the sadness hadn’t gone away, but he still looked a little bit better all the same.

Arthur glanced at the door, which had been left open. Mama had gone to hunt down Morgana, which gave him another thrill of satisfaction. Morgana had been trouble from the beginning, and now she had finally stepped over the line. Mother was going to punish her, and he hoped he got to hear it.

* * *

Morgana pulled frantically on the door in front of her, but it remained in place no matter how hard she yanked or pounded her fists on it, demanding that it be opened. If there were guards on the other side, they were ignoring her.

She had to get away, she had to find Uther before Ygraine found her again. Uther would protect her from his mean old witch of a wife, Morgana was certain of it. He wouldn’t let her spank her just because she’d broken stupid Merlin’s stupid toy.

“Morgana.” Ygraine’s angry voice came from behind her, and Morgana tugged even more on the door, but it still didn’t budge. “Return to the nursery,” the queen ordered her. “You are only making your things worse for yourself by running away.”

Morgana turned around and faced the older woman, her back pressed against the door. The queen’s face was as harsh as she’d ever seen it. Her voice stuttered as she said, “Y-You can’t do anything to me.” She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince, the queen or herself. 

Ygraine’s expression did not shift. She stepped closer, saying, “Your behavior has been quite distasteful, and there are always consequences.” She stopped and started to turn around. “Now, come.”

Morgana shook her head. “No! I want Uther!” She didn’t want to go anywhere with this horrible woman. She was going to do terrible things to her, she just knew it!

The queen turned to her again, and there was a new, angrier spark in her eyes. Without hesitating, she closed the remaining distance between them and grasped Morgana’s wrist in a hard grip. “That’s too bad,” she informed her nastily. “You’ve misbehaved and broken several rules of the nursery. It’s time you faced up to that.”

Morgana tried to struggle when the queen began to pull her away, back to the nursery, but the woman’s grip was too strong. She began to cry and scream, shrilly demanding to be released. “Let go! You can’t do anything to me! Uther won’t let you!” None of it worked, and she kept lashing out, even kicking Ygraine as hard as she could in the leg. The queen stopped for a moment, and Morgana was satisfied to see the pain that crossed the woman’s features, but it was only for a moment. Then they resumed their journey. Morgana kept pulling, only to have her other arm suddenly grasped by another, unfamiliar lady. The addition of her strength meant Morgana had even less success in her efforts, leaving her only able to scream continued demands to be let go of.

It took time, but they eventually made it back to the nursery. Ygraine and the other lady didn’t drag her into the main room, where Arthur and Merlin probably still were, sneering and sniveling respectively, but instead took her to the separate door that opened up directly into Morgana’s own chamber. The other woman let go of her then, letting Ygraine pull Morgana inside on her own. The door shut behind them with a loud bang. It was then that Ygraine finally released her, but also kept herself between Morgana and both doors that led out of the room. There would be no escape.

Morgana’s breaths were coming in heaving gasps, which made her head and stomach split with even more pain, but she still managed to say, “D-Don’t - you can’t - he won’t -”

“You have behaved as a spoiled, hurtful child, Morgana,” Ygraine cut her off, her eyes cold. “I have been patient with you, granted you far more latitude than I would if you were my own daughter, and you have repaid my patience with ingratitude and mean-spiritedness towards everyone around you.”

Morgana glared. She had not been mean! It had been all Ygraine, all Arthur, and Merlin too. “I have not!” she hotly denied. “The king says I am the loveliest lady in the entire kingdom! He says I’m the best, not like those horrible _brats_!” She pointed toward the door that led to the main room of the nursery. “Not like you, you horrible old hag!” she added.

Some part of her whispered that she was pushing too far, that even Uther couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , protect her if she went beyond a certain line, but Morgana had lost all illusion of control. She couldn’t think straight from the pains in her head and belly, and she had been miserable for so long that it all just came pouring out of her mouth. Little of it even made sense.

“Tell Uther - he’ll get you - nasty boys -”

“Morgana!” Now the queen was almost shouting. “Calm down!”

“ _I hate you!_ ” Morgana shrieked. “You and Arthur and Merlin! I’ll tell Uther on you! He’ll spank them and you when I tell him!”

Something seemed to snap in Ygraine’s eyes. Before Morgana could so much as blink or even think of protesting, the queen grabbed Morgana by the arm and dragged her over to the chair in front of her dressing table. In one smooth movement, Ygraine sat down and pulled Morgana onto her lap, lying on her stomach.

Morgana screamed when Ygraine’s hand came down on her bottom, hard. It hurt, but it wasn’t the only thing that did. Her belly, pressed against the hardness of Ygraine’s leg, protested violently at being so compressed. The continued blows against her bottom only made things worse, and she began to heave. “It hurts!” she wailed. “Stop it!”

But Ygraine wouldn’t stop, and the heaving grew worse. Morgana didn’t really have anything in her stomach, since she hadn’t been able to force herself to eat, but tears still blurred her vision as a stinging, rancid fluid came up and spewed out of her mouth.

* * *

Uther strode at rapid pace through the corridors toward the nursery, not acknowledging the various nobles, guards, and servants that darted out of his way, many bowing or curtseying in his direction. The maid that had come tiptoeing into his study to stutter out her message had been little more than a mouse, but he had believed her every word nonetheless.

 

_“I-I saw Her Majesty chasing Lady Morgana, Sire,” the maid said nervously. “The young lady was upset, and started screaming and struggling when Her Majesty tried to make her go back to the nursery. She…” the girl trailed off, eyeing him uncertainly._

_“She what?” Uther snapped, impatient. He had no time for timidity, particularly on matters that concerned his daughter._

_The maid jumped at his tone, her skin going chalky white, but she nevertheless was able to continue. “The Lady Morgana, Sire… she_ kicked _Her Majesty. They stopped a moment, but then kept going. I… I think the queen may have been injured, but I cannot be certain.”_

 

Uther had departed his study quickly after that. He didn’t know why Morgana had been so intent on fleeing the nursery  though he imagined it was likely that the boys were being beastly to her again, which meant he would have to… have words… with them about - but to actually physically lash out at Ygraine was perhaps going too far. He would probably have to speak firmly with her about that once he arrived.

He heard the screaming long before he saw the nursery door, and he broke into a run in response. He tore past the main door to the nursery and made straight for the door that opened directly into Morgana’s chamber. Flinging the door open, Uther strode inside, Morgana’s cries echoing loudly in his ears. What he saw drove all thoughts of scolding Morgana from his mind.

“ _What do you think you are doing?_ ” he roared at Ygraine. Not even bothering to give her a chance to reply, Uther crossed the distance between them and grabbed Morgana by the arm, wrenching her out of Ygraine’s lap. It wasn’t perhaps the best idea, because Ygraine wasn’t expecting it, and in the ensuing scuffle, Morgana fell painfully on the floor, crying out yet again. Horrified, Uther scooped her up, and she promptly flung her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Once he was satisfied that she seemed all right for the moment, Uther turned his attention back to Ygraine, who had stood up in the previous chaos. It was then that he noticed the wet stains on the skirt of her dress out of the corner of his eye.

“What did you think you were doing, wife?” Uther growled. “I forbade -”

Ygraine glared back at him, showing absolutely no remorse whatsoever. “Her behavior warranted it, Uther. She’s been mollycoddled enough.”

“I _forbade_ it, Ygraine!” Uther shouted. “She was running from you, so she must have believed that she was being treated unfairly. You should have brought her to me; surely she has the right to appeal any punishment.”

His wife didn’t respond immediately, though she appeared stunned by his statement. “What in God’s name are you talking about?” she finally demanded. “Since when do the children get to _appeal_ a punishment? If either of our sons tried to do that, you’d _add_ to their punishment!”

Uther scowled at her. He knew she was right on that score. If either Arthur or Merlin tried such a thing, they’d receive double the amount of smacks they would have received for just the infraction. Still, this was a completely different situation. Morgana was much more fragile, and used to the more relaxed atmosphere that Gorlois had provided for her in Cornwall. He did not want her frightened.

“That is completely beside the point!” he snapped. Furious, he leaned forward, his face just inches from hers, and said in his most menacing tone, “ _You have no right to touch her_! Particularly when she was clearly ill!” He gestured with his fingers toward the wetness of her skirts.

Ygraine’s initial reaction was only a faint widening of her eyes, even when she looked down and saw the stains for herself. After a moment, she said, “I’m sorry that she is ill, Uther, but she still broke the rules. Bullying someone is a clear violation of acceptable behavior in the nursery, not to mention destruction of someone else’s property. When I instructed her to come to her chambers so that I could speak to her about her actions, she instead chose to run away.” There was no mistaking the disgust in her tone, and Uther bristled at it. “Her subsequent behavior, such as threatening to have you spank her foster brothers, only made her actions even more atrocious. She needed to be made aware that her actions have consequences.” Ygraine’s eyes took on a challenging glint. “If you think that a series of swats with a hand are too much for her, or that I have overstepped my bounds in administering the punishment, then perhaps you would like to take over? Shall I get a hairbrush for you?” she fairly sneered at him.

Morgana began to twist violently in his arms, wailing against his neck in protest. Uther quickly brushed one of his hands over her curls, whispering, “No, there, there, dearest. No one is going to ever hurt you again, I promise.” He cast another angry look at his wife. “Lay a hand on her ever again and you’ll not like the consequences, woman. Do I make myself clear?”

Uther didn’t bother giving her a chance to reply, just turned on his heel and swept out the door, Morgana still cuddled in his arms. He had to get her to Alice and Gaius to see if there had been any permanent damage done.

* * *

In one of the citadel’s many towers, there had been a small chamber with a tiny connected storeroom that had once served as the living and working space for the Royal Physician. It had been a humble place, but perfect for an older man who treated the royal family for many of its ailments, along with several nobles and even many of the common citizens of Camelot. 

Unfortunately, it had not been quite enough for the Royal Physician and the Royal Healer combined. When the two had married just a few months after the birth of Prince Arthur, the king, in a moment of practicality, had pointed out that the small chambers were hardly enough for the couple to ply their trade and have room for their own privacy. Before his marriage, the physician had even slept in a cot by the fireplace, not even having space to have his own personal bedchamber. So, as a wedding gift, Uther had gifted the physician and healer with a new set of chambers, far larger than the physician’s previous quarters. Now they had a large primary space to use as a workroom, a storage room, a bedchamber, and even a sitting room that could also be used as a private examination room if needed. 

It was perfect for the two of them, and it was a gift that Alice was still grateful for, even a decade later. Both she and Gaius were from humble backgrounds, and having the respect and even the friendship of the King of Camelot was more than either of them would ever have dreamed of in their youths. Gaius could apply his science to the many problems laid before them, while she provided the dash of magic that often aided where science could not yet reach.

She was sitting at the table in the center of the room, pouring over a set of old healing texts, when the door burst open so violently that it actually hit the wall behind it. Alice looked up, shocked and startled, and saw Uther come sweeping into the room, his arms full of a small form that she quickly recognized as the Lady Morgana. Pushing herself to her feet, Alice said, “Good day, Sire. Is something the matter?”

The king’s face was red with fury, though his hands were gentle as he stroked the little girl’s curls. “The queen struck her,” he growled. “I need you to examine her for injuries.”

Shock and disbelief swept through her and she glanced over at Gaius, who looked similarly appalled and skeptical. “Struck her?” Alice repeated. “What do you -”

“She spanked her after I expressly prohibited it,” Uther cut her off, his tone still thick with anger. “Even when Morgana was sick over her dress, she refused to stop.” The girl in his arms whimpered and he shushed her gently. Returning his attention to Alice and Gaius, who had left one of his experiments to stand beside her, he stated, “Examine her, and treat her for any injuries that Ygraine may have caused her.”

One did not say no to a king, particularly when he was in the mood he was currently in. Accordingly, Alice stepped forward to take the young girl in hand. When Uther tried to set her down, however, Morgana sobbed and clung to him even more tightly. Despite this, the king still knelt down and managed to get her to stand on her feet, even if she still wouldn’t let go of him. “Morgana,” he said tenderly, carefully prying her arms from around his neck, “it’s all right now. You’re safe here. This is Alice, the royal healer. She’s going to help you with any injuries you might have, and she and Gaius will make sure that you feel better very soon. You won’t have to be sick anymore.”

Slowly, maddeningly so, the little girl let herself be pulled loose from Uther, and Alice got her first look at the girl. What she saw left her aghast. The girl’s pallor was practically yellow, marked only by the dark circles under her eyes and the gauntness of her cheeks. When Morgana turned to face her fully, Alice was even more horrified to see just how thin and malnourished the poor child was. If Gaius’ sharp intake of air coming from behind her was also any indication, he saw it as well.

Pasting a bright smile on her face, Alice held out her hand to Morgana, saying, “Please, dear lady, do not be afraid. You are quite safe and welcome here. My name is Alice.”

Morgana stared up at her with red-rimmed eyes. After casting one last nervous glance in Uther’s direction, she laid her hand in Alice’s outstretched one. Alice met Gaius’ gaze as she began to lead the young girl toward the sitting room, and he nodded understandingly, which pleased her. They had always had an innate understanding of one another’s thoughts, brought on by the intense studies they undertook together, and the years since their marriage had only increased that. 

Gaius would get the details they needed from the king, and Alice would take care of the girl.

Alice led Morgana into the sitting room, guiding her behind a small screen which granted everyone privacy. "Now," she said gently, being careful to keep her voice as soft and as nonthreatening as possible, "I understand you were... spanked?" There was really no getting around the word. 

Morgana, thankfully, didn't dissolve into hysterics. Instead, she just sniffled a bit and nodded. Alice took a deep breath and said, "All right, then. I would ask you to raise your dress, dear. I will need to check for bruising." 

A small flush crossed the girl's cheeks, but she didn't balk at doing as she was told. The process of examination only took a few minutes, for which both of them were thankful. After examining Morgana for bruises, Alice urged the girl to sit down in a large, comfortable chair. There had been no bruises; the skin on the girl's buttocks wasn't even tinged red. Most likely the Queen hadn't spanked the girl that harshly, and Morgana had only been traumatized by the act itself and the exacerbation of the symptoms she'd already had. Still, Alice could not help but be angry that no one had seen the girl's obvious distress. She was skin and bones, for goodness' sake! How could this not have been noticed? Morgana should have been brought to her and Gaius days ago, if not when she first arrived. 

Putting on her best and kindest smile, Alice sat down in a chair next to Morgana and said, "There are no bruises, my dear, so you need not worry about that. Though, I imagine you will be sore for a day or two." 

Morgana rubbed a fist over one of her eyes and she nodded. When Alice was satisfied that she was still paying attention, she continued. "My lady, you haven't been feeling well for a while, have you?" 

"No," the girl admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. 

Alice nodded. "I thought so." Reaching out, she tucked a stray curl behind Morgana's ear. "If you wish to feel better, there are things you must do. Are you willing to work at it? To be good and do as you are told?"

* * *

Gaius poured two cups of tea, one for himself and one for his king. Once they were both seated at the table and had sweetened the drink to their own tastes, Gaius began the interrogation. "How long has she been like this, Sire?" 

Uther stared down at the liquid in cup, carefully not meeting Gaius' gaze. Such behavior alone was enough to alert the physician. "I don't know," Uther admitted. "She and I spent the entire day together yesterday, and she seemed perfectly fine. She was happy and dancing until late last night. There was no hint she was ill at all!" 

The distress was apparent on his face, but Gaius did not pause in his questions. "How have her eating habits been?" 

Uther winced, but responded, "She has had problems eating for some time. She would not eat much of what sent to the nursery, so the nurse has been sending word to me. I would bring up some of the foods that I know she likes to entice her to eat." 

"I see," Gaius said, "and what does the Lady Morgana care to eat?" 

Now the king looked even more uncomfortable. "She enjoys cakes and other sweets." At Gaius' incredulous expression, he hastened to add, "But I always make sure she eats at least a little of other foods. She enjoys carrots, and peas as well, and she eats lamb and venison as well." 

"And how often does she eat those vegetables and other such healthy foods?" 

Uther didn't say anything, which was answer enough. Gaius sighed, shaking his head. "Really, Sire, you know such habits are not healthy. Is it any wonder that the poor girl looks like death warmed over?" 

Alarm swept across Uther's face. “B-But,” he sputtered, “she was _fine_ yesterday!”

Gaius sighed. “Sire, the young lady is clearly malnourished and ill. This is no sudden problem, but one that has been building for some time, possibly since even before she arrived here in Camelot. Her diet has not been consistent nor as healthy as it should be.” He gave the king a significant look. “There is a reason why Her Majesty instituted a clear system for food in the nursery. It keeps the young princes healthy and strong, and when they have the occasional treat, their systems won’t be compromised.”

Uther’s expression soured at the mention of Ygraine, but he didn’t deny Gaius’ point. “She wouldn’t eat what was available, Gaius,” he said quietly. “I was just happy that she was eating _something_ instead of starving herself.” For all the world, he sounded like a scolded child.

Gaius restrained himself from chuckling. “Then build a healthy menu around what she will eat,” he told him. “If there are certain vegetables that the lady doesn’t like, then replace them with other, equally healthy vegetables. The same with meats and fruits. But,” he added with a sharp warning in his tone, “too many sweets will only make her sick. You mentioned that she vomited earlier?” At the king’s confirmation, the physician continued, “Very likely that was due to an excess of sugar. You need to set clear boundaries. An established routine is vital for a wholesome upbringing for any child.”

Gaius said little after that, letting the king absorb the scolding he had just received. The physician had no doubt that his wife was having a similar discussion with the young lady in the next room, so perhaps they would soon be able to turn the child’s health around.

* * *

Ygraine’s day did not improve after the ugly confrontation with her husband in Morgana’s chambers. After Uther had unceremoniously departed with the squalling girl in his arms, she’d had her hands full dealing with her sons. Both boys had been quite indignant over their father’s behavior toward her, and she had been forced to speak to them firmly but gently to calm them down before they could say something that would require her to scold them. However out of line Uther was, he was still their father and their king. Speaking disrespectfully of him was not done under any circumstances, no matter how well-deserved it was.

In truth, though, the boys’ anger was something of a relief, particularly from Merlin. His ire over Uther’s behavior toward Ygraine had led him to calm down over the destruction of the toy horse, so Ygraine did not have to handle the tears of a devastated little boy. He did insist on keeping the broken toy, however, though she didn’t entirely understand why. Still, it was a small thing to ask, and truthfully did no harm, so she did not argue with him. 

Hunith had eventually reappeared in the nursery, forcing Ygraine to both explain what had happened and demand to know where the woman had gone.

The other woman, who had gone pale when she was informed of Morgana’s behavior and the subsequent drama, said, “There was a problem in the laundry having to do with the Lady Morgana’s dresses, Your Majesty. They required my input on how to save the dress she wore yesterday.” Consternation crossed Hunith’s features. “I should not -”

Ygraine shook her head, cutting her off. “It’s no use blaming yourself, Hunith. Perhaps this was for the best. Now that there’s been an explosion of tempers, perhaps things will calm down.” She glanced over at her sons, who were seated at the table and eating some fruit. “I am concerned, however,” she added in a quieter tone, “about Arthur. He was most… gleeful to see Morgana punished, even if he was angry about her actions in destroying Merlin’s toy.” She looked at her sons’ nurse. “Has there really been no thawing of the relationship between the two of them?”

Hunith looked uncomfortable. "I'm afraid not," she admitted. "I have tried to remind the princes that the Lady Morgana is still suffering from the loss of her father, and that she did not intentionally set out to cause trouble some weeks ago. Prince Merlin seemed to take my words to heart and has lately tried to be more open and kind in his interactions with her, but then..." She trailed off.

Ygraine nodded. Until the fiasco the previous night, Hunith meant. "And Arthur?"

The other woman sighed. "His Highness persists in holding a grudge, despite my best efforts to convince him to forgive and move on. Things were not helped when the lady was returned to the nursery last night. Morgana said some... uncomplimentary things about you, Your Majesty, and the prince overheard. He took umbrage and did not hesitate to scold her for her behavior."

The queen sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She wanted there to be peace, but their fierce intent on holding grudges was completely counterproductive to that goal. In truth, it was something that her sons inherited from their father's side of the family. The de Bois' certainly were never known for refusing to forgive a slight. 

Ygraine remained in the nursery for a while, watching the boys and waiting for Morgana's return. She did not doubt that Uther would eventually bring her back, after Gaius and Alice reassured him that the girl had suffered no serious hurt. Really, his over-protectiveness was unnecessary. No child had been permanently hurt by a few swats to the backside. The boys were certainly proof of that. 

In all truth, Ygraine knew that things could not continue this way. Most of the boys' resentment of Morgana stemmed from Uther's determination to treat her differently than them. Arthur in particular took offense to the fact that the girl was not punished for crimes that would they would be punished for. Not only did it offend his sense of fair play, but also that Merlin too seemed to suffer the most from this uneven behavior. 

It was no way to run any nursery. In Ygraine's own childhood, she and her brothers had all lived under the same rules set down by their father. Lord Aglovale de Bois had never let his daughter escape punishment simply because she was a girl and thus supposedly incapable of enduring the same kind of treatment as the boys. She had been switched for her misdemeanors the same as Tristan and Agravaine, and she was certain she had come out the better for it.

Children needed discipline, and they needed to see that discipline fairly distributed. Uther had wanted to keep Morgana from being unduly frightened by a sudden change in her routine, but the time for that had passed. The girl had been here for some time, and she had had a chance to become acclimated to the rules that governed the royal nursery in Camelot. She had to be subjected to the same rules if there was to ever be any measure of harmony.

The real problem, really, lay in convincing her husband of that. He was determined to cater to Morgana in every possible way. The only real motive Ygraine could really ascribe to it was his desire to be first in a child’s eye, and with Morgana he had a chance for that, a chance he never had with his own sons since they both cleaved to her more than they did to him. Uther had never been able to see just how much Arthur and Merlin longed for his approval, his attention, his love. It seemed like all he ever saw was that the boys always ran to her first. With Morgana, though, it was the exact opposite. She looked to him, and to no one else. 

It was an intoxicating feeling, to be so loved by a child. 

Eventually, some hours after his furious departure, Uther did return to the nursery, carrying Morgana in his arms. He again bypassed the main area of the nursery and went directly to Morgana’s chambers, but Ygraine and the others still heard him come in. Hunith went in with the intention to assist him with the girl, but was curtly ordered back out of the room. Ygraine tried to go in as well, and was alarmed to see Morgana tucked firmly into her bed, fast asleep. Uther sat in a chair next to her bed, watching the child intently. He didn’t look up, and yet seemed to know it was her anyway.

“Go away, Ygraine. You’ve done enough for one day.” The chill in his voice was greater than the chill of the wind outside the windows. “And tell your sons to keep quiet. I’ll not have anyone disturb the rest that Alice ordered for her.”

Ygraine didn’t dare argue with him, just backed out, closing the door behind her. Arthur and Merlin were still seated at the table, their expressions solemn. They had heard all that their father had said.

She didn’t stay long in the nursery after that, instead choosing to visit the court physician and healer. An uncomfortable knot formed in her stomach as she walked the corridors. Had Alice ordered bed rest for Morgana because of what _she_ had done? Had Ygraine perhaps been too hard on her, too caught up in her outrage at Uther for his behavior? Had she laid Uther’s sins on the girl’s back and made her pay for them?

Alice’s news helped alleviate some of the fear and guilt in Ygraine, though not all. “The young lady has been ill for some time, Your Majesty,” Alice informed her as she and her husband pored over medical texts and brewed their potions. She gave her a neutral, carefully non-judging look. “Malnutrition and insomnia have taken their toll on her body and it will take some time to right that. Whatever punishment she earned only aggravated an already existing condition.”

Morgana had already been sick. Ygraine nodded absently to Alice and departed soon after, mulling over that piece of news. She was a little relieved that she had not been so harsh in her punishment that she had made the girl ill, but she was still disturbed that she had not _seen_ that the girl was unwell. Malnutrition? Insomnia? Why had she not known? Why had she not seen?

Another thought came to her then, and she stopped dead in the corridor. Merlin had seen. Merlin had even tried to tell her. Before his birthday, when Uther had stooped to eavesdropping at her door and had lashed out at his son, starting the whole mess they were in. Ygraine had grown so indignant on her son’s behalf that she had quickly put his actual message out of her mind. 

Ygraine sighed. Merlin had seen what the rest of them, even Hunith, the girl’s own nurse, had not, but his words had gone unheeded until it was too late. Not even Uther had seen what his son had, and he had punished the boy when he attempted to bring it to light.

Uther. Ygraine pursed her lips in anger. He had actually led her to believe that _she_ was responsible for the entirety of Morgana’s problems! Did he really think so little of her, that she had deliberately _abused_ the girl to the point that she was in this state? How could he actually think such things of her? It was unthinkable!

She sighed, shaking her head as she resumed her stride. This haphazard state of things could not continue. Before Morgana’s arrival, the nursery had been a pleasant, well-run place. Ygraine and Hunith had had a good system in place that worked for them and provided a stable environment for Arthur and Merlin. Morgana hadn’t destroyed that system, of course, not at all. The young girl was not responsible for the chaos that had engulfed their lives since she had come to Camelot. It was Uther’s constant interference and demands that the girl receive special treatment that kept causing all of the trouble.

If there was to be any peace at all, Uther was going to have to step back and let her run the nursery as she always had. She was convinced that if Morgana was provided with a stable environment and a set of clearly-defined rules and routines, she would adjust and settle into her new life far more easier than having Uther hover over her and blow every incident completely out of proportion. 

She just had to make him understand that. 

Her chance came later that evening. Uther had remained in Morgana’s chamber for much of the day, only leaving after the two of them shared a simple supper, though a separate one from the boys and herself. He didn’t seem inclined to linger long after they had finished their meal and Morgana had gone back to sleep, but instead blew out the candle and departed from the chamber and swept into the main nursery chamber. 

He didn’t so much as glance at Ygraine or the boys, the latter of whom were about to depart for their own beds, but focused on Hunith. “Keep a close eye on the Lady Morgana tonight, Mistress,” Uther ordered her. “If there is even so much as a hint of any illness or distress, you are to summon Alice and Gaius immediately, as well as myself.” He gave her a sharp look. “I will be most displeased if her condition deteriorates any further.” Then he turned and swept out of the room, not even saying goodnight to his sons.

Ygraine pressed two hurried kisses to her sons’ cheeks, and then followed her husband out of the room. “Uther!” she called after his retreating back. He was some distance down the hallway already, but thankfully, he stopped when he heard her voice, though he didn’t turn around. When she caught up with him, he finally faced her. His expression was stiff and his eyes were cool.

“Yes, wife?” 

She winced inwardly at his tone, but refused to let him make her feel guilty again. _She_ had done nothing wrong except not recognize that Morgana was ill, which was hardly her fault since Uther rarely let the girl anywhere near her without him being present. Uther spent far more time with Morgana. _He_ should have been the one to see that she was unwell.

Taking a deep breath, determined to keep her temper under control, she told him, “We need to speak about the children.”

Uther stared at her for a moment, and then nodded shortly before resuming his walk down the corridor. Ygraine couldn’t help but feel a bit shocked at his discourtesy. Whenever they walked together, her husband had always held out his arm to her so that they might walk side by side. In this case, he rudely marched ahead of her, leaving her to scuttle along behind in his wake. She clenched her teeth at the juvenile insult implied in her husband’s actions, but forced herself not to outwardly acknowledge it.

They eventually came to the council chamber, the very room where Uther and Morgana had been having their rather distasteful party last night. There were, of course, no signs of that celebration left in the room. The servants were far too efficient for there to be.

Uther sat down at the head of the table and slumped in his chair almost lazily. “Well, Ygraine? What do you have to say about the children now?” he asked irritably. 

_I will not slap him for acting like a child younger than our own sons,_ Ygraine reminded herself silently as she sat down in the chair to his immediate left. Doing her best not to glare at him, she said, “It’s obvious that this current state of affairs cannot continue. The tension, the arguments, the threats, all of it is creating an untenable atmosphere for the children, and it’s really quite unhealthy.”

He stared at her, saying nothing for a moment. When he did speak, he said only, “Go on.”

Ygraine nodded. “Children need an even lay of the land, to know that they are held in equal regard under the established rules of behavior. We had that established in the nursery, until recently.” Taking a deep breath, she continued, “You’ve allowed me to run the nursery as I see fit ever since Arthur was born. I’m asking you to let me do so now. If all three children know that they’re all held in equal regard and that the rules apply to them uniformly, then the animosity will very likely fade and they’ll actually begin to get along.”

Uther’s face continued to remain blank and unemotional, but his eyes told a different story, now that Ygraine saw them. There was ice there, a cold, horrible fury. Directed at _her_. Just like earlier that day, when he had rushed to pull Morgana out of her lap. “You want Morgana under _your_ authority,” he said, his voice deadly quiet. “Why?”

She stared at him. “There can’t be opposition in the sources of authority, Uther,” she told him, feeling like she was explaining something to a child. “If one of the children misbehaves and I mete out a proper punishment for the misdeed, then it’s a matter of cause and effect. They can’t have someone to appeal to, it just negates my authority and they will have no respect for what I can do.” She leaned forward. “I cannot have one child completely out of my authority in the nursery. Morgana’s behavior today proved that. She stood in the nursery bullying both your sons and when Arthur threatened to inform me, she had the temerity to say that I couldn’t do a thing to her. Then she destroyed Merlin’s toy out of sheer spite, and still maintained that I could not punish her for it!” Well, now Morgana knew otherwise, if she knew nothing else, but Ygraine didn’t dare say so out loud, especially when the way Uther’s eyes flashed at the mention of the girl. 

“You want to have the authority to… _discipline_ … her,” he said, his tone still soft in a way that made her quite uncomfortable.

“Yes,” she replied. “It will not work if she has free rein to behave as she pleases with no fear of consequences if she misbehaves. You are the King of Camelot, and your life is full of the business of running the kingdom and keeping our people safe from those who would try to conquer us. You cannot be expected to have to be constantly informed and asked to discipline a child when she misbehaves. I’ve been doing this -”

Uther abruptly cut her off. “You went against my own instructions, Ygraine. I said that I wished for her to become accustomed to us, and didn’t want to terrorize her with practices that Gorlois never once had to utilize on her.” He seemed to be losing some of that icy strangeness, replacing it with his usual fiery temper, which, oddly enough, made Ygraine feel a little better. Uther’s black temperament was something she was familiar with.

He was still speaking. “How can I ever trust you with her after what you did to her today? She was _sick_ , Ygraine, and you practically beat her in her own chamber, where she should have felt safe! And over something as foolish as a _toy_?!”

“She was behaving like a common bully!” Ygraine snapped back, now growing angry despite her best efforts. “If either of our sons had behaved so, I wouldn’t have even bothered spanking them with my hand, but would have gone straight to the paddle, and you would have applauded me for it! I was lenient on her because it was the first time anybody disciplined her properly and if I had known that she was ill, I wouldn’t have laid a hand on her. How can you think that I’d be deliberately cruel to a sick girl?” she demanded.

"Our sons are old enough to know better than to whimper over a toy. It's past time for them to start acting like men, not sniveling babies,” Uther replied snappishly. “They should be tough enough to handle a few ill-chosen words from a grieving little girl. But no, she makes one move against your precious Merlin and you take her over your knee and beat her!"

They glared at each other, and Ygraine wanted to scream. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! She had wanted a civil conversation with her husband, to smooth over the tension from what had happened earlier in the day, but now things were even worse than they had been before. Her husband believed the very worst about her, had convinced himself that she would abuse Morgana if he left her in her care. _Why_? How had it come to this?

“This isn’t going to work,” Ygraine said through clenched teeth. “If you think me incapable of maintaining order in the nursery with an even hand, then perhaps _you_ should take charge of the girl’s care. If you think you are able to manage the full-time work of managing a nursery and Morgana’s care in addition to ruling an entire kingdom, then by all means, go right ahead.” The sarcasm was bitter in her mouth, but she let it flow out of her all the same. Uther had no idea how much work it was to keep a nursery running. He’d not last a week handling it without her there to run interference.

“Fine,” he snarled, “there will be two separate households for the children, one for Morgana, and one for the boys. I’ll make arrangements for it immediately.” Uther stood up from his chair. “Good _evening_ , madam.” Then he was gone, his long-coat swirling behind him as he swept out of the room.


	5. Chapter Four

_Six months later_

The heat of summer was in full swing in Camelot, bringing with it the usual customs of dealing with it. The knights wore their armor sparingly, caring for it constantly so as to avoid rust in the humidity. The ladies of the court did as little as possible so as to avoid heat stroke. The guards’ shifts were made shorter so that their time standing out in the sunlight was not so extensive. Gaius and Alice were kept constantly busy visiting those who were laid low by the heat, usually prescribing rest and drinking lots of fluids.

After so many years, Uther was well used to the heat and humidity of Camelot’s summers. This year, he didn’t even mind it so much, not when his life was as satisfying as it was. The joy and thrill of having his daughter in his life had never ceased, and he loved the time he was able to spend with her. It wasn’t as much as he would like, of course, since he was still a king and thus had many responsibilities, but nonetheless, the time they had together was wonderful.

Not for one minute had he regretted separating Morgana from his sons and providing her with a household of her own, under his own direct authority. Without the interference of his wife, things became much easier for him and Morgana. He no longer listened to Ygraine nag about every possible thing, and Morgana no longer lived in fear of being mistreated. 

The weeks after the separation proved wonderful, particularly Yule. The celebrations were always excellent, but Uther particularly enjoyed being able to share them with Morgana. There had never been such things in Cornwall. Gorlois had been wealthy, certainly, but he never kept a large court that would have required such lavish entertainments.

The gift-giving part of the holiday had been especially wonderful, even if it wasn’t _entirely_ perfect.

 

_Morgana’s squeals of excitement were music to Uther’s ears as she tore into the presents that had been provided for her for Yule. She loved the dolls he had ordered for her, some from Camelot’s toymaker, and some from as far away as Mercia. She danced with glee over the pretty dresses that Uther had ordered. She even smiled over the brushes, mirrors, and other small items that had been sent by various nobles._

_It pleased him immensely to see how accepted Morgana had become by the nobility of Camelot. They treated her with all due respect and kindness, as though she truly was their princess, he thought with some wistfulness. Perhaps… but no, it was best not to dwell on such things, Uther told himself firmly. Better to just concentrate on the happiness of the moment._

_“Ooh,” Morgana gasped, recapturing his attention. He saw that she had opened another gift, one that turned out to be a box made of fine, cherry wood with a delicately carved rose on the lid. “It’s_ beautiful _,” she breathed. As she opened the box, Uther peered at it. It was a case, one made for jewelry. The lid even had a tiny looking glass inlaid into it, allowing Morgana to peer at her appearance. She looked utterly enchanted by it._

_“Who is it from?” he asked, curious. It hadn’t been from him, and Uther couldn’t help but chide himself a bit for not thinking of such a thing. During his years in Uther’s service, Gorlois had always passed his share of the jewels that were part of his reward to first his wife, and then to Morgana. When Vivienne died, most of her possessions had passed on to her daughter, meaning that Morgana’s collection of jewelry likely rivaled his wife’s. Not to mention, Uther himself had showered her with many jewelry pieces. This would be the perfect place to store Morgana’s favorites._

_Most of the nobles had sent trinkets to Morgana, brushes, mirrors, and dolls primarily. Uther couldn’t help but be curious as to which noble would have thought to send the girl such a thoughtful gift. Lord Gaveston had several daughters, from both sides of the blanket, in fact. Perhaps he had sent it. Or maybe Lady Vala? The woman was perhaps the vainest creature in the entire kingdom, but she was also known for her great fondness for little girls._

_But it was from none of the nobles. Morgana reached down and picked up the small card that had fallen to the floor. She stared at the name, and her eyes widened. “It’s from the queen!” she said, sounding both surprised and awed._

_Uther managed to nod neutrally enough. Truthfully, he would have preferred Lord Gaveston or Lady Vala as the gift giver. While he knew that it was only right that Ygraine give Morgana a gift, after all the pain and suffering she had caused the little girl, he didn’t particularly like that Morgana was so_ taken _with the gift._

_It didn’t help that the next several parcels also proved to be from his wife. All of them were full of clothing, and they weren’t just confined to being more pretty little court dresses, but other, more practical items. Gloves, boots, cloaks, heavier, woolen dresses, all items that would suit Morgana very well for the winter. All things she would need, and yet they were also pretty enough to appeal to a young girl, which they did. Morgana’s green eyes shone with glee over them._

_Pasting a bright smile on his face, Uther picked up another gift he had obtained for Morgana and thrust it into her hands, effectively distracting her._

 

Morgana had blossomed with the spring, just as Uther had hoped she would. After Alice and Gaius had pressed upon her the importance of taking proper care of herself, and Uther had added his own gentle encouragement, she had begun to slowly improve. Her appetite didn’t improve immediately, but when she did eat, she ate healthy, wholesome foods. Sweets became a treat, and not a staple. She went to bed at a reasonable hour, and Uther sat with her when he could, telling her stories of his family, stories that he knew she should have known from her infancy, but could only tell her now. Slowly, as a result of the changes in her life, Morgana’s nightmares began to fade. 

And as if that wasn’t all, the attention she gave to her studies also began to grow. She paid attention to what Master Lucius was teaching, and Morgana began to take it all in as she should. Then she began to forge ahead, sometimes even outstripping Arthur. In his reports, the tutor attributed it to the fact that, in this period of their lives, girls were often a little quicker than boys. The tutor admitted also that Morgana was able to do much more reading outside of the schoolroom than Arthur was, which contributed to the gap between them. He was hasty to reassure Uther that in time the boy’s mind and comprehension would catch up, not that Uther was truly concerned. Arthur did very well in his studies, and soon enough his and Morgana’s focuses would branch off. And if Morgana was doing better than Merlin, well, that would keep the boy from getting ideas about his own importance. All the better that someone should be ahead of him.

With Morgana’s improved health, she became more active as well. To the point where she was running about in the gardens, full of energy and spirit. She was a child of the spring, he thought with some fondness. Though, Uther thought with a small frown, her latest request did offer him some disquiet. He didn’t disapprove of her wishing to learn to use a sword, per say. It was all well and good that she know how to defend herself, just in case the worst should happen. Still, he couldn’t help but hesitate over her desire to learn with the groups of boys that came to Camelot for their arms’ education. The boys were taught to be rough, to not hold back, and he disliked the idea of Morgana being bruised and battered, even if it was part of learning the art of the sword.

All that aside, Uther was quite satisfied with his personal life. Sitting up a little straighter in his chair, he turned his focus on the many pieces of parchment on the desk in front of him. If only his dealings with his fellow rulers were so fruitful. Caerleon and Mercia were both becoming quite troublesome again. Something would have to be done. He’d not have Gorlois’ death be in vain.

* * *

Ygraine smiled kindly at the young lady in front of her, holding out a small gift to her. The girl, a sixteen-year-old by the name of Enide, blushed beneath her gaze, murmuring, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

She chuckled. “You’re most certainly welcome, my dear. I hope you will find it of use in your new home,” she told the young girl. Enide’s father had just recently contracted her to marry Lord Lionel’s eldest son, Leander. 

It was a good match, to be sure. Leander was showing himself to be an excellent man, and would prove every bit as good a steward to his lands that his father was. That entire family was well-known for its level headedness, which was especially pleasing to Ygraine, since Lionel’s second son, Leon, was a squire here in Camelot and was becoming quite close friends with Arthur and, on a smaller level, Merlin. She knew very well how hotheaded her sons could be - something _both_ of them had inherited from their father, she admitted to herself - so the even tempered Leon would certainly be a boon to them both.

Ygraine watched as the young girl retreated back among the thongs of her younger ladies. Enide’s upcoming nuptials had been enough of an excuse to throw a small celebration, and it was one they were all enjoying. It was rather nice, watching the girls relax and enjoy themselves. After the miserable few months she’d had, anything that made anyone happy was a true boon.

If anything, the boys seemed more cheerful than they had in months now that they had the companionship of young Leon. The sudden, brutal separation from Hunith had been horrible for them, for everyone.

 

 _Ygraine gaped at her husband, shocked and disbelieving. Yes, he had agreed to her ultimatum to separate Morgana from the boys and provide her with a household of her own, under his own direct authority, but she hadn’t expected him to start now, the very next day. She hadn’t expected him to take_ Hunith _from them at a moment’s notice._

_Uther didn’t seem to notice the boys’ growing distress. He focused on Hunith. “You will assume your duties with the Lady Morgana immediately,” he ordered her. Giving her a stern, warning look, he added, “I trust you will execute your duties much more diligently now that you only have one charge to focus on, Mistress Hunith.” The threat in his tone was explicit._

_When Hunith nodded shakily, he turned toward the boys. “You will be meeting your governor this afternoon. Be on your best behavior. I’ll not have Sir Ector thinking the princes of Camelot are ill-mannered savages.”_

_“Uther!” Ygraine couldn’t restrain herself, feeling offended by the very idea that their sons were anything less than of excellent, intelligent character._

_Her husband, however, didn’t even so much as glance at her. All he said to her was, “It’s time, wife. They are too old to be continually coddled by the women. It’s time they became men.”_

_And that was all there was to it. Nothing Ygraine said could stop Uther from the course he’d chosen. The course she had unintentionally set him on._

_She tried to take comfort in the near certainty that this insanity wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last. Uther could hardly ever be convinced to take time from his work of running the entire kingdom to spend an afternoon with his own sons, so how could he possibly expect to raise a girl child on his own and provide the proper amount of supervision that she needed? Even if he had Hunith there to look after Morgana’s day-to-day needs, there was still far more to running a nursery than what Hunith could do on her own. Uther had no experience in the matter._

_He would grow frustrated by all the minutia of it soon enough, she kept telling herself. Ygraine wouldn‘t give him more than a month before he’d unceremoniously dump Morgana back into her lap and gruffly pretend nothing had ever happened. This, in turn, would leave her with an upset and even more willful little girl to deal with. In light of that, Ygraine admitted to herself, perhaps it was for the best that Hunith stayed with Morgana. She was probably the only one who could keep Uther from turning Morgana into a completely spoiled wretch._

_Yes, she tried to take comfort in all of this, but it didn’t really work. Not when she saw the upset faces and tearful eyes of her boys as their world was completely turned upside down._

 

The laughter of several young girls brought Ygraine out of her thoughts, and she smiled reflexively in their direction. So innocent, all of them, she thought a little wistfully. Enide’s marriage to Leander was an arrangement between their families, but from what she had seen of how the two had interacted, they seemed genuinely taken with one another. 

Much like she and Uther had been in the days between the arrangement of their marriage and the ceremony itself. It had been a short period of time, hastened by the fact that the men were all about to go to war with the man who had been Uther’s predecessor on Camelot’s throne, but it had still been a lovely time. Uther had courted her then, had been everything that was wonderful and charming. By the time of their actual marriage, she had been well on her way to being in love with him, and that feeling had only grown over time.

Things had changed, though, when the boys came, which was something that still shocked her. They had been forced to wait so long for their children, Ygraine had thought that Arthur’s presence and, later, Merlin’s, would be a source of joy for them. Uther had been well pleased by Arthur, had been proud of his son and heir, but there hadn’t been the excited thrill that Ygraine had felt. Then when Merlin came, Uther had been practically indifferent, though she hadn’t seen it until she looked back in later years. After that, it was like they had just steadily grown apart. Ygraine had devoted herself to the boys’ welfare, had been determined to be the best mother she could be and prepare them for the duties that would encompass their lives as princes of Camelot. Somewhere in all of that, Uther had stepped onto a different path, and had never found his way back to them, no matter how much she tried to draw him to do so.

As the girls continued to giggle together, Ygraine found herself watching them again. She hoped Enide would never have that feeling, of watching her husband fall out of love with her.

Especially when she couldn’t even determine _why_ it had happened in the first place.

* * *

Morgana squealed in delight when she stared at the trio of items in front of her. This was _just_ what she’d wanted, and Uther had been so wonderful in getting them for her. These were the best presents for doing so well in her lessons. The sword wasn’t sharpened, of course, meant only for learning and practicing. The shield had been painted with the symbols of Cornwall, _her_ symbols, to show just who it belonged to. The mail had obviously been specially made, the mesh finer and lighter than normal chain mail in order to better fit her thinner frame.

Pleasure still flowing through her, Morgana turned to Uther, who was beaming at her. “So you like them, I take it, dearest?”

Morgana thrust herself forward, hugging him as he caught her in his arms. “I love them!” she crowed, burying her face against his chest. “Thank you, thank you!”

Uther laughed. “You’re more than welcome, my darling. You certainly earned it after doing so well in your lessons these past few months.” He stroked his hand over the back of her head. “Master Lucius was very pleased with your work, as was I.”

She couldn’t help but stand up a little straighter as she slowly stepped back, feeling so proud under his praise. The past several months had been some of the best of her life, but also the hardest. It hadn’t been easy getting well, keeping to her promise to eat well and follow all the rules that Alice and Gaius set for her, but every time Uther gave her that happy look when he saw her improving, the struggle was worth the difficulty. 

At least some parts of it were actually fun. Once Morgana could actually think straight and not constantly focus on how miserable she felt, she actually found that she _liked_ learning. Well, learning most things anyway. Talking about long-dead Roman philosophers wasn’t the best way to spend an afternoon  though learning about the more naughty Emperors had been a lot more fun - but she found that she enjoyed learning mathematics, and how vital they were to keeping a household, a kingdom running. Keeping track of the taxes that the people paid, the granaries that were filled by the different parts of the kingdom, or something as simple was keeping a ledger of accounts were just some of the things that she enjoyed learning. Everything had a purpose, contributing to part of a greater whole, Master Lucius kept telling them.

Uther didn’t seem to notice her thoughts, as his eyes had drifted back to his gifts. Reaching out, he picked the sword up off the table. “Tomorrow, I’ll see about choosing a knight to instruct you in how to use it safely,” he told her.

Morgana blinked, surprised. “Aren’t you going to teach me?” she asked, reaching out and running her fingers over the links in the chain mail.

He shook his head. “I would love to, Morgana, but it’s best that you learn from one of the knights. My duties don’t leave me with enough time to see to your training, and I want you to have the best education possible, since you’re so determined to learn.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes a little at the reminder of his previous reluctance to give her the sword she’d wanted to learn to use. It had taken her _days_ to convince him, and she still wasn’t entirely sure how she’d won him over. Still, the idea of learning in private from one of the knights didn’t quite sit right with her.

Living with Uther, seeing him and Hunith every day was nice, and she loved both of them dearly, but… Morgana had watched the various boys learning in the special classes. She had watched the boys spar with each other… and she wanted that. She wanted to be able to be like them, learning with others, being around others. Any time spent with others was mostly confined to her lessons, which she still shared with Arthur and Merlin, and they were hardly the best of companions. Arthur was sullen most of the time, and Merlin couldn’t be convinced to take his nose _out_ of a book long enough to think of playing these days.

Morgana wanted company, and she told Uther as much. She had never had to hesitate to tell him what she wanted before, so she wouldn’t start now.

And he hesitated, much like he did when she had first asked for the sword, shield, and chain mail. “I don’t know if that would be appropriate, Morgana,” he said at last.

She wasn’t about to stand for that. Putting on her best pleading face, she wheedled, “ _Please_ , Uther? I want to learn with the boys of the court!” She flashed him a smile full of mischief. “I promise not to show them up too much!”

Surely he wouldn’t say no to that, she thought.

* * *

Arthur came to join the other boys for their arms’ lesson in a foul mood. Normally, this was his favorite part of his day, the one he looked forward to the most, because it let him have a chance to spend time with all the other boys. He remembered being so worried about it when he first started, worried that he’d only be liked because he was a prince and future king. It had been Merlin, of all people, who had reassured him. 

 

_Merlin stared at him, then laughed. “Really, Arthur? Not like you? Who would be stupid enough not to like you?”_

_Arthur glared at his younger brother. “Not everyone is going to like me, Merlin! Father says that kings have no need to be liked, only respected.”_

_Merlin didn’t respond at first, and they stepped out of the citadel and walked toward the training grounds in silence. As they approached, Arthur saw several boys already there, mingling with each other. Another flutter of nervousness danced through his belly._

_Before they came into earshot of the others, Merlin asked, “Can’t people respect _and_ like you? Can’t you have both?”_

_Arthur glanced over at him, and saw his little brother offering him a tiny smile. “You’re nice enough to me and I like you.”_

_Warmth began to slowly spread through Arthur, chasing away the butterflies that were flitting through him. There was no time for Arthur to say something just as nice to his brother, so instead he just nudged Merlin against the shoulder and murmured, “Shut up, Merlin,” without any heat._

_Merlin’s laugh helped the last of the nervousness to fade away._

 

Merlin had been the one who had given him the boost of confidence that he’d needed in that moment, something Arthur was still grateful for even now. In the time that followed, though, it had been Merlin who had needed him. While Arthur himself had thrived on the subsequent training that they were given, Merlin didn’t, not in the classes and not even in their private lessons with Sir Ector. He gamely continued to listen and learn, struggling to imitate their arms masters, but he did so without the natural talent that Arthur and many of the other boys had in spades.

His brother was a scholar, Arthur thought, not a warrior. In his mind, there was no shame in that. He thought that it was only right. When Arthur was king, he would do the fighting and Merlin would do the other things that were needed to keep the kingdom running. They’d be an unbeatable team.

Still, no one else saw it that way. So Merlin kept learning and struggling, but took comfort in his studies. Merlin was clever, something both he and Arthur took pride in. No one could ever claim otherwise.

But now that was being stripped away from him. Ever since Morgana had been pulled out of the nursery, and Hunith with her, she had started paying attention in their shared classes, acting like she actually _cared_ about it. And it was really working too. Her marks on her schoolwork soared higher and higher, and she was forging ahead in the material that Master Lucius was working on with them, to the point that the old tutor was actually giving her more things to read and work on because she was so far ahead of them.

For himself, Arthur didn’t care much. Morgana could learn all she wanted, but she’d never be able to do anything with it. Probably the most she’d be able to use it for was running a household or something. But for Merlin, it was different. Merlin had always been so proud of how smart he was, that he was able to keep up with and sometimes even get a little ahead of Arthur in the schoolroom. But now Morgana was leaping well ahead of him, and it was nigh impossible for Merlin to keep pace with her.

Though it didn’t stop him from trying. Hence why Arthur was in such a foul mood.

 

_“It’s exhaustion, my lady,” Gaius said as he straightened up from examining a miserable-looking Merlin, who lay limply in his bed. “The prince has completely worn himself down.” The old physician frowned. “What could he possibly be doing that is so stressful? Sir Ector isn’t the kind of man who would utterly wear down his charges like this.”_

_Arthur stood in the doorway, watching the scene. His mother was sitting on the side of the bed opposite Gaius, and he had a fair view of her distressed face. “He’s…” she trailed off, unable to go on._

_“He’s been studying,” Arthur finished for her, stepping further into the room. “For our lessons with Master Lucius.”_

_Both Gaius and Mother turned to look at him, clearly surprised by his presence. Arthur crossed his arms in front of him and shifted his gaze back to his brother. “Morgana’s been doing really well, and Merlin’s trying to keep up with her,” he informed them._

_Mother’s eyes widened and she looked back to Merlin, a fresh wave of sadness crossed her face. “I thought he understood that it was all right, that he didn’t _have_ to always be…” she trailed off._

_Arthur listened in silence as Gaius started listing off a bunch of instructions for Merlin’s recovery, but he paid it little attention. He hadn’t been blind to his brother’s stress over having Morgana overshadow him in the schoolroom. Merlin was used to being the best there, and worked hard to achieve it. Arthur had seen what Morgana’s showing off was doing to him, not to mention Master Lucius’ constantly exclaiming over every little thing she did. The old tutor had praised Merlin in the past, but never like he did now with Morgana._

_He scowled. It was something else she was taking away from his brother. It was like she wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d taken everything, until he had nothing left._

 

The arms master appeared at that point, interrupting Arthur’s thoughts. The man spotted Arthur and nodded to him, but didn’t ask about Merlin’s obvious absence. Arthur supposed that meant his mother had already sent a message to the man explaining why Merlin wasn’t there, something he was grateful for. He really didn’t want to have to explain in front of the others why his brother was sick.

As the arms master began to explain what they would be practicing for the day, Arthur glanced around. His fellow students were all listening, but Arthur was more curious about the onlookers. Several nobles were visiting Camelot at the moment, many of them the parents of the other students. They were watching, to see how their sons were handling their new training, to see if they were taking advantage of the prestigious advantages that being trained in Camelot offered. 

He had a feeling that their presence was going to make many of the others put forth their very best effort today. Arthur had best be on his guard. He had his own reputation to protect, and he wasn’t about to be beaten in front of the people he would one day rule either. 

They had just begun to pair off to begin their warm up exercises, however, when there was an interruption. Arthur, who was working with Leon, the oldest of their group, looked up and was shocked to see his father striding toward them. What was even more surprising was that Morgana was hurrying along just behind him, wearing trousers and chain mail of all things and her hair tied back in a long braid. 

She even had a sword belted at her waist.

 _What is_ she _doing here?_ Arthur thought angrily. He’d had enough of dealing with her in the schoolroom. Why was she here now?

Much to Arthur’s surprise, Father didn’t immediately begin to speak to the assembled crowd of students and onlookers. Instead, he strode over the arms’ master, and began to speak with him. Morgana followed in his footsteps, coming to a halt on Father’s right. Narrowing his eyes, Arthur began to inch closer, barely noticing Leon following quietly a step or two behind him. 

“… Morgana wishes to join in the lessons,” Father was saying. There had clearly been more, but the one part that Arthur heard made him stop in his tracks and work to keep his jaw from dropping. Father was going to _allow_ this?! This was serious training for the future warriors of Camelot, not some game to play with little girls, Arthur thought furiously. This was one of the few activities that he and Merlin both got to be involved with that actually _didn’t_ involve Morgana coming in and showing them up. 

Not that he expected her to show him up or anything. Morgana was a girl.

He knew he had to think fast. Arthur could see the look on the arms’ master’s face and knew he was horrified at the idea of including a girl in his class, much less the king’s precious ward, but Arthur also knew that the man wouldn’t be able to gainsay the king’s wishes in the matter. There was no one who could really stop Father if he insisted. Arthur looked around and saw that he wasn’t the only one who had heard. He could see many of the nobles staring in their direction, appalled. 

Maybe that was the key. Arthur knew that protesting Morgana’s presence on account of being a girl would only result in Father yelling at him for being a bully, and Morgana would join them anyway. And it would be horrible. No one would want to spar with her, not when they knew how protective Father was of her. If the poor person assigned to her actually bruised her or, worse, made her cry, God only knew what Father would do to him. None of these parents wanted their son to be the focus of the king’s ire. 

He couldn’t yell and refuse like a little boy. He had to speak the way an adult would, the way a prince would in front of his future subjects.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur stepped forward and bowed twice, once to Father and once to Morgana. “Sire, my lady,” he said in the most respectful tone he could muster.

The two of them turned, surprise flickering across their faces when they saw him. “Arthur,” Father responded. Morgana said nothing, just gave him a cold, impatient look. Like she was in a huge hurry to start hitting people with the sword she kept a possessive hand on. 

Arthur ignored the slight. Now wasn’t the time to try and argue with her. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of having yet another subject to have everyone praise her on, and let her take everyone’s attention away from the boys who had so much riding on this training. He wasn’t about to let her show up Merlin here either, if she actually proved to be any good. 

Instead, he had to focus, and choose his words carefully. “While we all believe it commendable that the Lady Morgana wishes to learn to protect herself, is it truly appropriate for her to join in the classes?” He glanced behind him, saw his fellow students. He didn’t see Merlin, of course, but Arthur knew he was speaking for him as well. He turned back to Father in time to see the irritation flash across his face, but before he could speak, Arthur continued. “The First Code of Camelot says that all knights must be kind and show all courtesy to ladies. We are being taught to adhere to that tenet, and every other tenet that the First Code teaches.” He motioned to the others behind him. “They won’t dare use their full strength against the Lady Morgana for fear of hurting her, and that will impede their own development.”

There was silence on the training field.

* * *

By nightfall, Ygraine was quite exhausted. Much of her day had been spent in the nursery with Merlin, watching over him and making sure he actually rested. In the past, whenever he was sick, Merlin would often try to get around having to spend his time quietly, attempting to get up and play with his brother or his toys, or even read one text or another that Master Lucius had assigned him. Technically, it would have been Sir Ector’s task to keep a close watch on Merlin, being the boy’s governor, but Ygraine was wise to all of Merlin’s tricks. She hadn’t had any intention of letting him make his health any worse, and she could make sure Sir Ector learned how Merlin behaved during times like these. 

But Merlin had surprised her today. He actually stayed in bed. Certainly, much of that time was spent actually sleeping, but when he was awake, he didn’t try to get to his toys, didn’t try to reach for the books piled near his bed. He lay there quietly, his eyes distant, though he always answered when Ygraine spoke to him. They were fairly monosyllabic replies, though, and Merlin made little effort to try and engage with her further.

Her son was depressed, and it was exceedingly painful to watch.

Though much of her day was spent in the nursery, Ygraine was by no means ignorant of what went on outside of it. Aine stopped in periodically, often with a maid in tow who carried a tray of food for her and Merlin, and she would inform her of anything that required her attention. Ygraine didn’t remember most of what Aine had told her, because her mind had become consumed with her news of what had happened on the training field.

Uther had tried to put Morgana in the training classes, so that she might learn sword craft, and Arthur had managed to prevent it, citing the First Code of Camelot and its decree on the treatment of women to keep her out. It had been shocking, to say the least. Uther’s part of it, anyway. What could he have been thinking? Ygraine thought it was actually a good idea that Morgana know how to defend herself, of course. It was something every young woman should know, in case the worst should happen. Ygraine herself had learned in her youth, taking lessons from one of her father’s household knights. But never would her father have considered putting her in with the many boys who had come to learn the duties and skills of knighthood. 

By the time the sun had set, Ygraine had left Merlin to his rest in Sir Ector’s capable hands and with Arthur for company. Her eldest son hadn’t said anything about the confrontation on the training field, but she still hadn’t missed the flicker of satisfaction that had crossed his round features every now and then. 

She’d returned to her chambers knowing it was only a matter of time before Uther made an appearance. Arthur had kept Morgana from having something she wanted, Ygraine reflected bitterly, so it was only to be expected that her husband would show up to berate her for it, blaming her for what he saw as bad behavior in their firstborn. 

When Uther stormed in not an hour after she had come back to her chambers, Ygraine reflected that was most bothersome when she was right. 

“Your son is the very worst sort of brat,” he growled, not even bothering to greet her. 

Ygraine looked up at him from where she was seated, picking at the food that had been brought to her. She had been expecting this, but after watching over one son who had put his very health in danger because of Uther’s precious ward all day, she was of no humor to trade heated insults over the actions of their other son. Taking her time in chewing and swallowing her food, she met his gaze and said coolly, “He is _our_ son, in case you have forgotten. And if you have come here for nothing other than to denigrate him, I’ll thank you to leave my presence immediately.”

“His behavior today was reprehensible!” Uther all but shouted, completely ignoring her ultimatum.

Ygraine sighed. “I was given to understand that he cited the First Code, husband. Was he not right in that the First Code stipulates that all ladies, no matter their station, are to be treated with gentleness and respect, and that knights are to inflict no harm upon them?” He didn’t respond, just glared at her, but she didn’t exactly need a reply. Ygraine knew she was right. She continued, “It’s all well and good that Morgana learn to use a few weapons, Uther. I applaud you for thinking of it. The knights and guards of Camelot protect us all with their lives, but they can’t guard against every single threat in the world. It’s certainly responsible of you to make sure she can protect herself.”

“Your son doesn’t seem to think so,” he snapped, pulling out the chair at the other end of her table and all but throwing himself into it. Ygraine tried not to roll her eyes. He was acting like a spoiled child.

“Arthur was looking at the bigger picture,” she told him. “He was thinking of those boys and their futures. None of them would dream of using their full strength against her for fear of doing her some harm. That would hamper their own learning, and could even get them killed some day.” She wasn’t being entirely truthful, of course, as Ygraine was fairly certain that Arthur’s reasons may have been a little more spiteful than the ones she was letting on. The boy still held a grudge against Morgana, and it was something that needed to be dealt with. It would poison Arthur, would poison his entire being, if something wasn’t done about it.

Uther didn’t seem to notice her wandering thoughts, but instead seemed to just sulk. “Morgana wanted to be part of the classes,” he muttered. “I just spent the better part of the past six hours trying to console her over it. I even had to promise to move her pony out to a different stable after she had dreamed that the animal was in a fire.”

Ygraine sighed. Privately, she thought it good that Morgana was actually denied something she wanted. No child should have their every whim met. It was hardly a good influence on their characters. “Uther, it wouldn’t have worked, and not just for the reasons I already mentioned. Do you think Morgana would have liked sparring with those boys knowing that they were deliberately going easy on her? She would have been miserable.”

He didn’t say much after that, and Ygraine continued to eat her meal, this time with a little more enthusiasm. She could actually taste it now, where before it had merely been flavorless sustenance. As she was finishing, Uther stood up and strode out as abruptly as he had come in.

Ygraine raised an eyebrow. They’d actually had a conversation without it devolving into a screaming match. What was the world coming to?

* * *

The night and the days that followed were not particularly peaceful ones for Uther. Morgana remained in low spirits for the rest of the day, despite his promise to provide her with the most skilled knight in Camelot to teach her to use her sword. She had seemed a little comforted by his promise to move her pony to a different stable, but remained quiet until she went to bed for the night.

Uther himself didn’t get more than two hours of sleep before he was jarred awake again by shouts and cries about fire. He’d rushed from his bed and thrown on his clothes, not even waiting for his scrambling manservant. It turned out that one of the stables had caught fire, leaving practically every man in the citadel, regardless of rank, scrambling to help put it out. If he had been the type to find humor in such situations, Uther would have been entirely amused to see a stable boy standing on the shoulders of a noble to throw bucket after bucket of water on the burning roof.

Thankfully, there had been no fatalities. The shrill cries of the animals had been loud enough to wake the stable-hands and they had battled through the flames to get them out. There were several burns and coughs that developed in the aftermath, but nothing that Alice and Gaius could not treat with relative ease. Once the injured were being seen to, Uther had turned his attention back to the smoldering stable and had demanded to know what had caused the fire in the first place.

The stable master, an older but highly competent man that had been running Uther’s stables for over a decade, had already investigated. “A lantern, Your Majesty,” he explained grimly. “the nail it was hanging on had come loose and it fell into the hay.” The stable master grimaced. “It fell into the stall where the Lady Morgana’s pony is usually stabled. It’s a good thing the animal was moved. There’s no way it could have survived the flames long enough for us to get to it.”

It was a shock, to say the least. Morgana had been crying about fire killing her pony when he’d spent those hours consoling her after Arthur’s rather brutish treatment of her, and Uther had agreed to move the animal just to help her calm her down. Then less than twelve hours later, a fire started in the pony’s very stall, one that would have killed it had it still been there.

It was such a strange occurrence, but Uther put it firmly out of his mind. He had too much to do to think about it too closely. The problem, however, was that the incident seemed to open a floodgate. Morgana’s dreams, which had been so improved since her own nursery had been set up, were now falling back into the horrible nightmares that had plagued her. In the days that followed the fire, she couldn’t have a single night’s rest without at least one nightmare that made her wake up screaming and crying. And since Uther had long ago ordered Hunith to send someone for him if Morgana woke from her nightmares, his sleep was constantly interrupted as well.

After two weeks of such agony, Uther was convinced that what was happening wasn’t natural. It couldn’t be. Even before, when Morgana had been so ill, her nightmares weren’t like this. So constant, so violent. There had to be some kind of _cause_ , and he could only think of one thing  magic.

And there was only one person who both disliked Morgana and had the ability to hurt her in such a despicable manner. Uther vaguely recalled Ygraine mentioning that the boy had been ill in the days before the fire, though he had since recovered.

There was little other recourse but to summon Alice and Gaius to examine Morgana. He had to know, had to find a way to protect her from these attacks on her mind.

The healer and physician all but ordered him out of Morgana’s chamber when they arrived there, saying they needed peace and quiet to perform their examinations. Uther hadn’t liked being forced from the room like a naughty child, but he had endured it. He needed answers.

For nearly an hour, Uther paced outside of Morgana’s chamber, straining his ears to try and hear anything he could coming from within, but to no avail. Alice and Gaius were keeping their voices low and soothing, likely for Morgana’s benefit, but it had the side-effect of not being conducive to eavesdropping.

Finally, the door opened and Gaius stepped outside, and when Uther saw his expression, he feared the worst. “It’s magic, isn’t it?” he demanded before the older man could say a word. “She’s being attacked.”

“Sire,” Gaius said in his most placating tone, “these are nightmares. All children have nightmares. They will pass -”

“No,” Uther cut him off angrily, “these aren’t natural, Gaius. It isn’t natural for a perfectly healthy girl to suddenly have nightmares _every single night_. Someone is foisting these horrible things on her,” he declared, and then glared at the door that led out into the corridor, adding, “and I know just who would.”

When he turned back to Gaius, he saw genuine alarm spread across the physician’s face. “Sire, the young prince wouldn’t -”

“Of course he would!” Uther snarled, now beyond all reason. “He’s a jealous, unnatural little brat! He hates Morgana and will do anything he can to hurt her! He probably imposed his own sickness on her just to make himself better a few weeks ago.” He clenched his fists, and took a few steps toward the door. “Perhaps a few days in the cells will teach him not to harm innocent little girls -”

“Uther!” While Gaius’ tone wasn’t enough to end his blind anger, it was enough to make him stop in his tracks. When he looked back at him, the physician looked both upset and resigned. “Merlin is _not_ using his magic to torment Morgana. For one, such spells are of the darkest kind, and not something that can be done without intense delving into the dark arts. For another, Merlin is _not_ the kind of boy who would hurt anyone deliberately.” Uther opened his mouth to protest, remembering the boy’s despicable behavior before his last birthday, but the scathing look Gaius gave him made him shut his mouth with an audible snap.

For a brief moment, Gaius did nothing but stare at him intently. When he was satisfied, the physician sighed wearily, saying, “Morgana’s nightmares are a symptom of an overall issue, it’s true, and yes, magic is involved, though not an external force,” he added, giving him another quelling look. “Uther, I believe that Morgana is a Seer. The nightmares are a manifestation of her Seer talents attempting to surface.”

* * *

Morgana had been in bed all day, and hadn’t had the energy or desire to leave it, not even after Alice and Gaius had visited her and given her a tonic. The potion had helped her to sleep without nightmares, though, and she had woken feeling a little bit better. Not long after she’d woken and had a bit of soup brought to her by Hunith, Uther appeared in her chambers, carrying something that was wrapped up in a bit of cloth.

Morgana watched him as he sat down on the edge of her bed, and then eyed the cloth curiously. Was it a present, maybe? Something that would make her feel better?

Uther noticed her interest and smiled at her. “Yes, dearest, it’s something just for you.” He slowly unwrapped the cloth, revealing a smooth, white crystal about the same width as Uther’s hand. 

Morgana gasped at the prettiness of it, and reached out to touch it. Uther, however, pulled it back out of her reach. She looked up at him and he was staring at her seriously. “This is the Crystal of Neahtid, Morgana,” he told her. “It’s a magical artifact of great power that was put into Camelot’s care. Only the most powerful of Seers and magic users can master its abilities.”

She blinked. Seers? Magic users? 

“Gaius thinks you are a Seer, darling,” Uther went on to explain, “and he believes that it is those abilities that are causing your nightmares. He says that the crystal may help to channel your abilities and stop the bad dreams.”

For several moments, thoughts and emotions swirled through Morgana’s mind. She had magic? But Uther hated magic! Or at least, he hated _Merlin’s_ magic. She hadn’t forgotten the horrible spanking Uther had given Merlin just for making up some butterflies for her. But Uther didn’t seem angry that she might be like Merlin, he was as wonderful as ever. Fear and nervousness slowly gave way to hope.

“I’ll be able to sleep again?” she asked softly.

Uther nodded. “Gaius hopes so.”

* * *

Sunlight poured into the windows and onto the stone of the corridors the following day. Merlin darted along in Arthur’s wake, enjoying the golden warmth on his skin. It was the perfect summer day, not too hot at all. They had slipped away from their lessons with Sir Ector when the older man had been busy with some task or another, and Arthur had decreed that it was the perfect chance to go visit Hunith. Given how busy everyone was with the preparations for Morgana’s birthday celebration in a few days, no one would notice the two of them.

Merlin dearly wanted to see his old nurse, had missed her terribly, but he was a little uncertain. They didn’t see Morgana outside of the lessons they shared with her under Master Lucius, and Father had made it perfectly clear that they weren’t to bother her. What if she took them visiting Hunith as bothering her? He asked Arthur as much.

Arthur just shrugged. “We’re not going to hurt her or anything, Merlin. We just want to pay our respects to Hunith, after all.” He didn’t even slow his pace as they approached the door to Morgana’s nursery. “Come on,” he said in a loud whisper, grinning back at Merlin, “let’s surprise Hunith!”

Merlin winced. Arthur’s idea of a surprise was usually loud and even scary sometimes. Still, he followed, knowing that there’d be no stopping him. So he was right behind him when Arthur threw the door open and shouted, “Surprise, Hunith!”

The results probably weren’t what Arthur was hoping for, Merlin thought later.

Morgana had been sitting at the table and squawked in fright when the door banged open. Whatever she had been holding in her hands dropped onto the table, echoing loudly in the room. There was no sign of Hunith even being there.

But Father was. He had been sitting directly across from Morgana, but now he had turned his attention toward them. Merlin fought the desire to shrink back when faced with the dark, angry look on their father’s face.

“Arthur, Merlin!” he barked. “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing, bursting in here like a pair of thugs? You’ve startled Morgana, and could have hurt her when she was using the crystal!”

Crystal? What crystal? Merlin’s eyes landed on the object that lay on the table between Morgana and Father, and saw that it was indeed a crystal. He started to look back toward Father, but a sharp… _something_ jabbed at him, coming directly from the object. Merlin’s eyes went back to the crystal, and he inhaled sharply. There was _magic_ in that crystal.

But then, why was Morgana using it?

Arthur, completely oblivious to what was going on, stuttered out, all of his previous bravado gone, “W-We just wanted t-to see Hunith, Father. We -”

Father gave him another angry glare. “Princes do not burst into ladies’ chambers like hoodlums, Arthur. You and your brother would do well to remember that. Now, get out and return to the nursery. I’m sure Sir Ector is looking for you. I will be having words with him about your behavior later.”

Merlin didn’t even wince at the threat. He couldn’t take his eyes off the crystal, and Arthur had to drag him out of the room to get him to leave. Once they were in the corridor, Arthur started to go back in the direction of their own chambers, but Merlin stopped him suddenly. 

“We need to go talk to Mama.”

* * *

The great hall of Camelot was decked out for what looked to be the celebration of the year. Flowers and garlands covered every conceivable surface. The tables fairly groaned beneath the weight of the food and plate. The guests were enjoying themselves immensely. 

Ygraine wished she could entirely say the same. It was a lovely party, but its implications were somewhat bothersome. Uther had insisted on a lavish celebration of Morgana’s birthday, her first here in Camelot, and Ygraine had been left to make the preparations, though she had been forced to run practically everything by her husband instead of just handling everything as she normally did. Nothing was too good or too much for this feast, and the costs were staggering, despite Camelot’s wealth. 

It rivaled any celebration of Arthur’s birthday and, of course, completely dwarfed any of Merlin’s, which was galling. 

Ygraine drained the last of the wine from her goblet and held it out for one of her ladies to refill it. She had briefly hoped that things had been on the mend between her and Uther after his failed attempt to insert Morgana among the boys training to become knights, but she had quickly come to see that one conversation that didn’t become a shouting argument between them did not a reconciliation make. Any attention not given to his kingdom, Uther gave to Morgana. There was no room for Ygraine, or for their sons, unless it was to find fault or blame.

Then there was that whole situation with the Crystal of Neahtid. It had only been three days ago when her sons had hurried into her chambers and Merlin had started babbling on about how Morgana had magic and his father was with her and he didn’t want her to be hurt. Ygraine hadn’t understood all of what her younger son had said, but she had gotten the gist of it. She knew and understood the root of Merlin’s fears. Uther had despised Merlin’s magic, had done all he could to stomp it out. Whatever issues Merlin had with Morgana, he had no desire to see her faced with such suspicion and dislike. Ygraine had been of the same mind. The girl was so devoted to Uther. If she suddenly found herself on the receiving end of the treatment he had meted out to Merlin over the years, it would utterly devastate her.

Ygraine remembered hurrying to Morgana’s nursery, determined to shield the girl as best she could. She may have failed to protect Merlin from his father’s prejudice, but if she could do anything to soften the blow for Morgana, then she would do so. Uther may have taken the girl utterly out of her hands, but she was Morgana’s guardian too. 

Only it had been all for nothing. Ygraine didn’t think she would ever forget coming into Morgana’s nursery to find the girl sitting at the table with the glowing crystal cradled in her hands, Uther watching her with rapt attention. There had been no anger, no suspicion, no censure in his expression. Nothing like the looks he so often directed at his own son.

Finally taking notice that her goblet had been refilled, Ygraine took a sip of it and scanned the hall. Arthur and Merlin were near the windows, dressed in their best and under Sir Ector’s watchful gaze as they spoke with a small group of boys about their age. She was proud that they were holding up well while under the scrutiny of the nobility, especially after more than one pointed comment from her husband about their past bad behavior toward Morgana and how wonderful the girl was for not insisting that they be excluded from her party. But they had been nothing but kind and courteous, particularly when they presented Morgana’s birthday gifts - a few bolts of pretty purple and blue fabric from Arthur and a lovely little set of pearl-lined combs from Merlin. Morgana had loved them and thanked them both graciously enough. Only Uther had stood there with a warning scowl on his face every moment the boys were within arms’ reach of the girl.

Ygraine sighed and turned her gaze toward her husband. He hadn’t left Morgana’s side ever since the celebration had started, perfectly content to escort her all over the hall, showing her off to everyone, acting every inch the proud papa. He kept Morgana within reach at all times, like he couldn’t bear to have her separated from him. He was forever brushing his hand over her dark curls, saying things that made her grin widely and her eyes light up -

Ygraine’s thoughts stopped dead and she stared at Morgana, like she was actually _seeing_ her for the first time. There were her green eyes that sparkled, like Uther’s used to in the days of their courtship and early marriage. There was a face as round and cheerful as Arthur’s. There was pale skin that still glowed as healthily as Merlin’s when they were at their best.

The pieces of the puzzle that was Uther’s inexplicable devotion to Morgana suddenly, sickeningly, slid into place.

 _Oh my God._ It all made sense.

The girl wasn’t the daughter of their dead friend. She was _Uther’s_. Uther’s and _Vivienne’s_.

_Oh my God._


	6. Chapter Five

_“To Prince Arthur!”_ The roar was thunderous in the great hall as everyone raised their goblets in honor of Arthur’s fourteenth birthday. Uther smiled behind his goblet, proud of the enthusiastic response that his son garnered from the nobility. Once everyone had drunk their fill and sat their goblets back down in front of them, he began to speak.

“A young man’s fourteenth year marks many changes in his life. His education with the tutor of his childhood ends, and he passes into the tutelage of the warriors. To that end, it is my honor to give my son into the care of Sir Bors, to act as his squire so that he might learn the duties and responsibilities of a Knight of Camelot.” Uther nodded to Bors, an experienced knight who wasn’t actually much younger than himself. “I have no doubt that, with Sir Bors’ example to follow, Prince Arthur will grow into an excellent warrior who will bring all honor to this kingdom.”

The applause was nearly as loud as the earlier toasting shouts. Uther sat back down on his throne, watching everyone turn their attention to their food with real satisfaction. He had spoken the truth when he’d said he had no doubt Arthur would bring honor to Camelot. He had been one of the best students in the arms’ classes, and while Arthur preventing Morgana from participating with them still stung a little, that didn’t keep Uther from being immensely pleased. Arthur had the look of being a fine knight one day, a _true_ Pendragon.

The same couldn’t be said of Merlin, however. At not quite thirteen, he was still everything Arthur was not. Dark instead of fair, thin instead of stocky and muscled, delicate instead of strong. The boy’s skills with a sword were abysmal, nothing at all like Arthur, though Uther knew that his eldest son had tried for years to instruct his brother, to no avail. The boy would never be a warrior. On one level, it was rather humiliating, to have such a useless brat for a son, but nonetheless, Uther couldn’t help but be pleased over it. If the boy’s abilities as a warrior remained stunted, he would be that much less of a threat to Arthur’s place. No knight would want such a hopeless squire, even if he was a king’s son.

Arthur had finished his formal education under Master Lucius, and Uther had also made a point of terminating Merlin’s time with the older man as well, providing the tutor with a pension that would see him through his older years quite comfortably. Traditionally, Merlin should have had another year with the man, but the boy was already further ahead of Arthur in terms of education, since his mind was keener on book learning than Arthur’s. Uther had no desire to give him the chance to forge ahead even further. It was better this way, for Arthur.

He glanced off to his right. Arthur sat immediately next to him in what would normally be his mother’s place, but one that Ygraine had given up in honor of her son’s special day. Instead she sat to Arthur’s left, and Merlin sat to hers. That left Morgana on Uther’s left, where she was eating quietly and watching the celebration in front of her. For a moment, he wondered if she had had a vision of some kind of treason - it certainly wouldn‘t be the first time, after all - but Uther didn’t fret over it much. Morgana would inform him if there was a credible threat. 

Uther took a bite of the lamb sitting on his plate, enjoying the fine taste. The cooks had outdone themselves for the day’s feast. The food was delicious.

In this moment, it was good to be the king.

* * *

The feast ended around the tenth evening bell, leaving everyone to go their own way. Some of the knights went into the town to visit the taverns, as did some of the nobles, though they’d certainly never admit it. Most of the women retired for the night, or, at least, they retreated to their chambers in groups to gossip. Merlin was fairly sure that a lot of women did that sort of thing, if his observations of his mother’s ladies were anything to go by. 

Merlin had enjoyed himself at the feast. Arthur’s birthdays always promised an enjoyable time for all. Nothing had ever topped the amazing joust on Arthur’s tenth birthday, before Morgana had come to Camelot, but it was still quite a bit of fun. Arthur got to sit at his father’s right hand, a real treat, and Merlin was quite content to sit off at the very end of the table, with his mother between him and his brother. At least he hadn’t had to sit by Morgana, who was far too puffed up by her own self-importance these days, in his opinion anyway. Ever since she’d had a vision of some random noble plotting treason, the king had made her a full-fledged member of his council.

It wasn’t until the next day, though, that Merlin began to realize just how much things had changed for everyone. Arthur was being removed from the nursery permanently, and being given his own official chambers that befitted the oldest Prince of Camelot. Merlin could only watch in mute horror as servants swept in and out of Arthur’s old room, carrying his things out and returning for more. Arthur himself was nowhere to be found, of course. Sir Ector, who was still in charge of Merlin, had swept into Arthur’s room before dawn, ordering him out of bed, saying, “Sir Bors does not tolerate laziness, my lord. Up! He expects you on the training field in thirty minutes.” Merlin had been right next door and had heard the subsequent commotion of Arthur throwing his clothes on. Arthur had barely even had time to smile at Merlin before running out the door after having hurriedly eaten a piece of bread and drunk a glass of milk. 

Merlin spent the morning with Sir Ector in the same way that he always did, fruitlessly trying to gain any kind of proficiency with larger weapons. He had been able to gain the mastery of some smaller ones, such as throwing knives, but the larger weapons frequently used by knights, such as swords and crossbows, remained beyond his grasp. 

After nearly three hours, Merlin growled in frustration, “I understand the theory of it, Sir Ector.” He glared at the crossbow that hung heavily in his hands. He could load it with the ease of long practice, but hold it up long enough and steady enough to get an accurate shot? No, not even with the physical conditioning Sir Ector and put him and Arthur both through over the years. He was far stronger than he used to be, but these big, heavy weapons remained beyond him. “Aren’t there other crossbows we could try?” He asked, not for the first time. “I know there are other ones in the armory. Leon says that the knights have crossbows made specifically for them, to fit their strengths perfectly.”

The older man stiffened a bit, and his expression gained a stilted look. “The king has mandated that you learn with these weapons and no other, my prince,” he informed him. They were the same words he had used every time he asked.

Merlin scowled, but said nothing in reply. After another hour of ineffective work with the larger weapons, he turned his attention to the smaller weapons and had much more success. If someone ever came at him with a dagger, they wouldn’t know what hit them, Merlin thought a little sourly.

After his time with Sir Ector mercifully came to an end, Merlin went in search of Master Lucius for his afternoon lessons. Upon entering the chamber, however, he was shocked to find the room completely cleared out. The tables where he and Arthur and Morgana had sat for their lessons were gone, as was the desk where Master Lucius set up his own things. The bookshelves were gone as well, along with the books that had contained them. Everything was _gone_.

“Your Highness? Is something wrong?”

Merlin whirled to find a young maid standing in the doorway, carrying a basket full of dresses. She looked to be perhaps Morgana’s age, maybe a little older. “Where is Master Lucius?” he asked.

The maid blinked, her pretty brown eyes full of confusion. “Master Lucius?” she repeated. “He left early this morning. The king gave him his pension and house in the lower town for his efforts as royal tutor, now that he was no longer needed.”

Merlin gaped at her, shocked. “L-Left?” was all he could say. 

She shifted the basket to rest on one hip, leaving her free hand to brush nervously down her faded orange dress. “Yes, Your Highness. Early this morning,” she repeated, eyeing him warily.

With some effort, Merlin tried to master his astonishment. No longer needed? Arthur was finished with his formal education, true, but what about him? He wasn’t even thirteen yet! He still had so much to learn, and yet no one to teach him now that the tutor that had been with him for so many years was gone. It made no sense!

And yet, a small, sly voice murmured deep in Merlin’s mind, perhaps it did. Perhaps this was an instance of his father - yet _again_ \- forgetting that he had _two_ sons, not one. 

Taking a deep breath, Merlin pasted a polite smile on his lips. “Thank you, Mistress…” he trailed off, realizing he had no idea what the maid’s name was.

Thankfully, the girl seemed to pick up on his hesitation and the reason for it. She dipped a curtsey, slightly awkward thanks to the basket she held, and supplied, “Guinevere, Your Highness. And you are most welcome.”

She continued down the corridor then, leaving Merlin standing alone in the empty chamber. He couldn’t help but sweep his gaze around the room again. How many times had he sat in this room with his brother and Morgana? How much had he learned? How many times had he excelled and then been outshone by his foster sister?

There would be no more chances of that, at least. Master Lucius was gone, and if the king thought Morgana needed any further instruction he’d probably engage a private tutor for her. But where did that leave _Merlin_? What was he to do? He never liked inactivity, chaffed under it, really. Now Arthur was full of his new duties as a squire, Morgana was busy playing at being a member of the king’s council, but there was nothing for Merlin. 

All he had was his magic, which still earned him a belting if he dared use it.

The curtains over the window caught Merlin’s eye then and, almost without thinking about it, he _reached_ for them. 

They billowed, caught in a breeze that didn’t exist.

Merlin couldn’t help but grin.

* * *

The cool of fall steadily faded into the chill of winter in the weeks that followed Arthur’s birthday. Not that the change stopped her eldest son, Ygraine thought with some fondness. Arthur was absolutely _reveling_ in being Sir Bors’ squire. Even if the knight made him perform the less glamorous chores, such as caring for his saddles and bridles, or cleaning his armor to protect against rust, Arthur never once complained. Whenever he was with her, he was always full of good cheer and perfectly happy to chatter on about all the things Sir Bors was teaching him. It did Ygraine’s heart good to see her son so pleased with his current lot.

If only she could feel the same about her younger son. Merlin put on a brave face when he was with others, but Ygraine knew her boy. He was restless. Though still under the care and training of Sir Ector, no longer having Master Lucius to occupy his mind with schoolwork was leaving Merlin without gainful occupation. He was too young to be made a squire like his brother, and given the trouble he had with so many weapons, Ygraine had her doubts as to whether he _should_ become a knight at all. There were many other honorable occupations in life, after all, no matter her husband’s skepticism on the subject. Merlin had a fine mind, and if he applied himself, he could be an excellent scholar, and then an advisor to his brother in the years to come. 

Since the departure of Master Lucius, however, Ygraine found herself uncertain as to what Merlin did with the majority of his time. She knew he still spent his mornings with Sir Ector, but beyond that, she knew nothing. Did he go to the archives for private study, to continue his education on his own? Did he continue his arms’ training in private, struggling to master what had already become second nature to so many other boys his age? It all came down to the same answer - she did not know.

Ygraine couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about her lack of knowledge about her youngest. She had truly meant to involve him in some kind of activity once her husband had made his intention to pension off Master Lucius known, but she was so incredibly busy at this time of the year! Her charities within the city were in full swing, preparing for the approaching Yule, particularly for the orphanage that Ygraine sponsored. She made a point of never letting the orphaned children go without receiving presents for the holiday. Things were made even more complicated by the arrival of an embassy from Caerleon. Tensions between Camelot and the other kingdom were running high again, and this was Uther’s attempt to maintain the peace.

Or, at least, she thought it was. Ygraine was hardly welcome in the council chambers. The only female who was permitted in there was Morgana, after all, she thought with some disapproval. Uther made no secret of his use of Morgana’s Seer abilities, particularly after Lord Bran’s attempt to let Caerleon bring an army into Camelot through his lands. Morgana had Seen it, and had been able to warn Uther of it in time. That had cemented her place in Uther’s council, even if it still scandalized many of the other members.

She was honest enough with herself to admit that she resented the way Uther so valued Morgana’s counsel. Even at the height of their marriage, before the squabbles and disagreements over the children had so divided them, Uther had never sought her advice on state matters. Oh, he had trusted her with the running of the royal household, had given her the run of their sons’ nursery, but did he ever ask her how he might handle a dispute between two of his nobles? Did he seek her advice on how to not offend a foreign sovereign? No, never. She had been relegated to the domestic sphere almost from the first, and for the most part, she had not resented it. 

Until Morgana, anyway. Seeing the girl sit at her husband’s side during council meetings - or, rather, _imagining_ it, since Ygraine had never attended a council - had made something in her burn with envy. Even though the past few years had inured her to the fact that much of the closeness she had once shared with her husband was gone, it still hurt to be given fresh reminders of it.

Ygraine shook her head suddenly. No, it would do no good to think on it. Today was going to be difficult enough, it being Merlin’s birthday and all. Her boy had reached his thirteenth year, and this anniversary was already looking to be the most lackluster celebration of all. Uther had never again attended his youngest child’s birthday dinner after the half-drunken confession that he viewed the day as not worth celebrating, and Ygraine doubted he would start now. Morgana would not attend; she never did. Ygraine wondered if her stepdaughter even knew of it.

What made it even more depressing was the fact that Arthur would not be able to celebrate with his brother either. The snows had come heavy and cold in the past week, though that had not kept the knights from venturing out into the forests around Camelot, in search of game. Sir Bors in particular was a voracious hunter, and had insisted that his squire accompany him. They had been gone since before dawn, and probably wouldn’t return until nightfall. 

It would be just her and Merlin this year, and she could not help but feel as if she was letting him down. Ygraine had little influence with the knights, and had not been able to speak with Sir Bors before he had dragged her son out into the cold wilderness. In truth, given what little she knew of the man, she did not think she would have succeeded in convincing him to let Arthur remain for Merlin’s birthday. Merlin’s birthday was a nonevent in the court, Uther had made sure of that.

Gasps and cries drew Ygraine out of her thoughts and she looked over toward her ladies. Several of them were gathered around a window and were peering out through the tinted glass. Before Ygraine could inquire as to what held their attention, Aine beat her to it.

“Here now, what’s this?” she asked, striding across the room. “What’s so interesting?”

The girls parted, making way for Aine to see what was happening outside, and she too gasped. “Oh, my goodness!”

Now Ygraine was intrigued, and perhaps even a little alarmed. “What is it?” she demanded.

Aine glanced over at her for a brief moment, and then her eyes went back to the window. “I… It’s roses, my lady. Rose petals falling from the sky, like rain.”

Ygraine furrowed her brow, confused and not a little incredulous. Standing up from her desk, she crossed the room to peer out another window. What she saw, shocked her. Aine was right - there _were_ rose petals falling from the sky. Deep, solid red rose petals. She could only watch, surprised beyond all measure, as they fell to the snow-covered ground. As she stared down at the courtyard, she couldn’t help but think that they more resembled blood drops than flower petals.

The thought made her shiver. This was magic, she knew. Roses did not bloom in the winter, and their petals didn’t fall down like raindrops. It was harmless enough, more of a curiosity for the people, but Ygraine knew that Uther wouldn’t see it in such a way.

He’d blame Merlin, as he always did. Dread swept through her.

* * *

Uther gaped at the falling flower petals for several moments, barely hearing the chuckles of most of his council or even Morgana’s delighted giggles. They were all treating the incident as an amusing diversion, or a pretty treat in his daughter’s case, but Uther could not share their calm in the face of this strange sight.

Rose petals. Falling from the sky. In the depths of winter.

This was no natural occurrence, which left only one other possibility - _magic_.

 _Merlin_ , something inside Uther growled, and his anger began to grow. Struggling to keep his fury under control, he said, “Let us recess for a few hours. We can reconvene later.” He then left without another word, not even waiting for Morgana to leave with him.

It was best if she didn’t see what was to come next.

He stormed through the corridors, stopping only once to ask one of the castle stewards if he knew where his youngest son was. 

The steward answered promptly, “I believe His Highness is in the nursery, Sire. It is where he often is after his arms’ lessons end with Sir Ector, now that Master Lucius’ services have been discontinued.”

Uther nodded shortly and walked away from the man without another word, his anger growing with every step. So the boy was lazing about his rooms instead of making himself useful, was he? Did he think he could just use his magic with impunity now that he was out of the schoolroom? Uther would have to… disabuse him of that notion, and quickly. The last thing he needed was the boy getting it into his head that he could treat his disgraceful abilities like they were some kind of _toy_.

He only passed a few people on his trek to the nursery, but those he did come into sight of were quick to get out of his way. Uther barely noticed them and didn’t even slow his stride. 

The nursery door was cracked open when he arrived, and Uther shoved it open, not flinching when it swung so violently that it slammed into the wall. Much to his satisfaction, Merlin jumped at the loud sound. He had been sitting by one of the large windows, peering out over the snow-dusted grounds. He leapt to his feet and faced Uther, his eyes wide with shock. Those bright, blue eyes, just like Aurelius’…

Uther shuddered inwardly. How was it the boy _still_ managed to look like a dead man? Narrowing his eyes, he pushed the thought away. The dead had no place in this conversation. Glaring at the boy, he hissed, _“What did you do?”_

The boy blinked, his expression shifting to one of artless confusion. Uther wasn’t fooled at all. “Father?”

“What did you do, boy?” he demanded, this time in a louder tone. “What magic have you been using? What game have you been playing?” Uther took a few steps closer to the boy.

Again, the boy’s face showed nothing but bewilderment. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You were looking outside,” Uther snarled, moving even closer. He pointed toward the window. “Why are there _flower petals_ falling from the sky in the middle of _winter_?!”

A single blink of those cursed eyes. “I saw them. I thought they were pretty,” the boy said, shrugging. “Someone must have wanted to give everyone something to smile about.”

Such a lax response only inflamed Uther’s anger. “Do you think this is a joke, boy? Did you think it was _funny_? How many times have you been warned about the dangers of magic, of its ability to corrupt anyone who uses it?!”

Now the boy’s expression grew surly, even defiant. “Morgana uses magic all the time,” he pointed out. “It doesn’t make her bad.” Then he seemed to snort to himself. “Hope it doesn’t, or we’re all dead.”

The edges around Uther’s vision began to blur. “You _dare_ accuse Morgana of this?” 

Merlin’s eyes widened. “What? No. I -” 

Uther cut him off, grabbing him by the shoulders and yanking him forward. “Don’t you ever try to foist your own wickedness onto your foster sister _ever_ again,” he ground out, leaning down so his face was inches from the boy’s. “I have warned you again and again about the corruption that could infest you, and yet you continue to _welcome_ it!”

He was satisfied to see something like alarm cross the boy’s features. “It-They’re just flowers!” he protested. “There’s nothing wrong with flowers!”

“So you admit it?” Uther demanded. “You did this?”

“They’re just flowers, Father!” the boy bleated. “They didn’t hurt anyone! I -”

 _“It’s not about the fucking flowers!”_ the king roared. He dragged the boy even closer. “You have been forbidden to use your… your _abnormality_ and you continually disobey me!” He seethed. “I won’t have it!”

The boy struggled, trying to pull free from Uther’s grip. “It’s not bad! Morgana uses it all the time! She -”

Yet again the boy tried to bring Morgana up as a defense, hiding behind a young girl like a coward. Uther growled and jerked the boy over toward the wall. Pushing the boy against it, he ordered, “Stay there and do not move, or you’ll get even worse, boy.”

The act of pulling his belt off was done smoothly enough, something Uther was well used to doing. It was made more difficult, however, when the boy’s struggles grew even more frantic. Gripping the belt in one hand and holding the boy’s shoulder in the other, he brought the belt up and then down, swinging toward the boy’s backside -

Only it wasn’t a belt anymore, but a ribbon. A thin, deep red ribbon, like something Morgana would use to tie her hair back. It was completely harmless.

For several long moments, Uther gaped at it, unable to believe what he was seeing. In that time, Merlin had managed to turn around to see what was happening, and Uther’s gaze switched to him. There was shock on the boy’s face, a bit of awe. He clearly had not intentionally transformed the belt. Yet, there was something else there in the boy’s eyes, something that stoked his fury anew. 

There was pride. There was defiance. 

The wretched child was _proud_ to have done this, believing he had escaped punishment thanks to his blasted _magic_. He was happy to defy his father, to defy his _king_.

Never before had the boy resembled Aurelius more.

Uther backhanded the boy across the mouth before he could even blink, sending Merlin toppling to the floor. The boy didn’t even have time to cry out or touch his now bloody lip before Uther grabbed him by one of his ears, hauling him to his feet. “Think yourself clever, boy?” he growled. “You’ll take the punishment you earned like a man, and not like some cowardly snake charmer!”

He didn’t allow himself to see and comprehend the shock and pain on Merlin’s face, just kept delivering the blows, mainly to his backside, but another smack or two to his face every time the boy wriggled out of his grasp. All of Uther’s pent-up rage had sprung free, and wouldn’t stop until it had burned out.

But the boy was still clever. He tore himself free from Uther’s grasp and instead of trying to squirm back, he ducked under Uther’s hands and made a break for the door.

He was out the door and racing down the corridor before Uther could stop him, but that didn’t prevent him from pursuing the brat.

* * *

Terror and pain nearly blinded Merlin as he ran. He knew that running was only going to make things worse, but he couldn’t help it. Every instinct in him had screamed for him to run, to avoid the blows that were raining down on his face, head, and shoulders. Uther had punished him many times before, so many that Merlin had long since stopped counting. But it had always been a belting on his backside, or a switching, or with his hand. Never had he actually used his _fists_ , or pulled him about by his _ear_. 

He had been caught completely by surprise by the first blow. He hadn’t _meant_ to use his magic on the belt, it had just happened. Playing with his magic these past few weeks had actually made it come to him much more easily. Spending so many years trying to suppress it, to not use it but actually ignore it, had made Merlin feel like he was bottling up some vital part of himself. Actually _using_ it had felt like a wall had been smashed, leaving an open, airy room.

Still, that first blow had nearly stunned him into unconsciousness. Never before had Uther actually struck him where the evidence of the blows might be seen by others in public. The king was always careful about appearances, and it would hardly make a good impression if one of the kingdom’s princes looked like he had been waylaid by bandits or some other hoodlums. 

Then the blows kept coming, not stopping, and each one hurting more than the last. Merlin didn’t think he was going to stop, and it was terrifying. So he ran. He didn’t know where he was running to, only that he was running.

This, in retrospect, was probably not the best idea, given that he could barely see where he was going. It was probably why he didn’t see the feminine figure in front of him until it was too late to avoid crashing into her. Though, thankfully, the collision wasn’t enough to knock either of them off their feet, though their arms reflexively went around each other to prevent themselves from falling. 

“Merlin?” It was Morgana. Merlin looked up at her, inwardly lamenting that she was still taller than him, and saw the shock on her face as she stared down at him. Her fingers brushed his cheek and he winced, feeling the bruise already forming there. “Who did this to you?” she demanded. “What in the world happened?”

Merlin didn’t get a chance to reply, because she was already calling out, “Ygraine, he’s here! I’ve found him!” That was when his mother scuttled out of a nearby chamber. Her eyes too went wide with horror when she looked at him.

“Good God, Merlin! What happened?!” she too asked, echoing Morgana’s earlier questions.

He didn’t get an opportunity to answer her either, because at that time, the three of them were joined by two more people. First was, surprisingly enough, was Merlin’s uncle, Tristan de Bois, his mother’s twin brother. Merlin hadn’t had any idea he was even coming to Camelot. Second, of course, was Uther.

The king’s face was still a mask of fury and rage, and Merlin couldn’t keep himself from shrinking away. It was then that he noticed that Morgana hadn’t let go of him and that she too had seen Uther’s angry approach, because in those moments, her arms tightened around him and seemed to draw him closer to her almost instinctively, like she was… trying to protect him, of all things.

At first, Uther didn’t even seem to notice that he now had an audience, and he kept stalking closer and closer toward Merlin. It wasn’t until his mother’s sharp, commanding voice rang out through the corridor that he seemed to take note of their presence. “Uther!”

The king stopped, blinking, and stared at them for several moments. His eyes seemed to linger first on his wife first, and then shifted to Merlin - and Morgana too. It was then that he finally saw that Morgana was actually clinging to him. Merlin could feel her shock and even a bit of fear, and Uther appeared to see it too, because his expression softened for a brief moment. Then his green gaze shifted to Merlin and became angry again. He didn’t come any closer, but he still pointed at Merlin, “I swear, boy, I will make you see the consequences of what you do. Somehow, I’ll make you see.”

Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and left them all standing there. It wasn’t until Uther was out of sight that Morgana actually released her hold on Merlin, and that he too let go of her.

* * *

Tristan de Bois didn’t often visit Camelot, he never had. His duties as a lord of a large swath of land that bordered Ascetir kept him largely occupied. Cenred, Ascetir’s king, was a wily fox who was forever finding new ways to probe Camelot’s border defenses, seeking any kind of weakness that he could exploit. Such actions required Tristan’s constant attention, which left him little time to visit his sister and her family in the capital. 

When he did, however, it was usually a joyful occasion. There was no one in the world that he loved more than his dear sister, and he was very fond of her two handsome sons too. He absolutely loved that Arthur so resembled his de Bois relatives. Of course, he didn’t love his younger nephew any less for looking like his Pendragon forbearers, and in particular his late Uncle, Aurelius Pendragon. Tristan remembered the man, and had always liked him, perhaps even more than he’d ever liked Uther. There had been something about Aurelius, a genuineness that drew people to him even more than Uther’s not insignificant charisma. 

In this case, though, the visit was turning out to be anything but a happy one. He hadn’t sent ahead word of his coming, wishing to surprise his younger nephew by appearing at the celebration of his birth, and his sister too. They were always exchanging letters, of course, sending them back and forth with the messengers that were always riding to and fro, but it had been over two years since they’d last laid eyes on each other. Tristan had thought it to be a wonderful treat for them both, and for his nephews.

It was quickly turning out to be anything but. He had arrived in the citadel to see rose petals floating down from the sky, a most unusual occurrence to be sure. He then stepped inside, only to learn that Ygraine was rushing about the corridors, franticly searching for her younger son, the Lady Morgana matching her every step as she looked for Uther. He had rushed to catch up with them, concerned, only to come upon a most alarming scene - Uther furiously angry and striding toward Merlin, whose lip was bleeding and face was covered in darkening bruises; the Lady Morgana clutching Merlin to her, her face pale and her green eyes frightened as she stared at the king; and Ygraine, her own expression full of anger as she glared at her husband, her fists clenched at her sides.

The scene came to an end very quickly, and after the Lady Morgana vanished off to wherever she wished to go, Tristan ended up following his sister as she guided Merlin to the royal physician so that his wounds could be treated. The old man dutifully took care of the boy, and then suggested that he spend the day resting, a suggestion that Ygraine fully supported. She then returned the boy to the nursery, placing him in the care of his governor, old Sir Ector, whom Tristan was actually acquainted with.

It wasn’t until Tristan had accompanied his sister back to her chambers and that they were alone that the questions that had been churning in his mind began to pour out.

“God lord, Ygraine, what is going on here?” he demanded. “What was all of that? Uther looked like he was about to rend Merlin limb from limb!”

He half-hoped his sister would shrug off his exclamations, say it was nothing, just a simple fluke. It wasn’t to be, though. Instead, Ygraine let out a sound that sounded like both a laugh and a sob, her shoulders curling and hunching forward. Tears welled in her eyes, though Tristan could see her blinking them back furiously. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, looking away from him as though she was ashamed. 

Alarm swept through him. Tristan had seen such looks on women before. He himself had never married, but he worked with many other nobles who had. Most were fundamentally good men, but some, most assuredly, were _not_. He had seen more than one wife of such men cringe and shrink into herself when her husband was in his cups and roaring loudly with either laughter or rage. It did not take a genius to understand the cause of her fear.

Was his sister… Did Uther… Rage began to boil in him, and he reached out for his sister’s clasped hands, taking them in his larger ones. “Ygraine, has the king…” he paused, hesitating for a moment before continuing, “… _injured_ you in some way?” If what he suspected was true, he’d cheerfully gut the man, king or not. No one harmed his sister. _No one._

Ygraine sniffled, but shook her head. “No, no,” she answered. She tugged one of her hands free and brought it up to her eyes, rubbing them carefully. When her hand came away, the skin around her eyes was tinged pink, but otherwise they were now dry. “He’s never laid a violent hand on _me_.”

For a few seconds, relief spread through him. He did not want to think that his sister might be in the same straits as so many of those noblewomen he had met over the years. Tristan knew that the law gave a man the right to deal with his wife as he pleased, but in his eyes, any man who would use violence against his wife was a coward. A true man did not need to use his fists against women who could not defend themselves.

But then, Tristan reconsidered her words. _… on me_. He stared at her, taking in the despair that clung to her still beautiful features. A lump formed in his throat as he began to put the pieces together. “Merlin?” 

Her lips trembled a bit, but Ygraine nodded. “Uther has always… mistrusted Merlin’s magic,” she said in a low tone. They were alone, it was true, but one never knew how closely the servants might be listening, and Tristan knew that his nephew’s abilities were a closely guarded secret for a good reason. The last thing they needed was for Uther’s enemies to learn that his younger son had magic, and powerful magic at that. No one doubted that there would be attempts to kidnap the boy, to use him against his father. 

Ygraine took no notice of what he might be thinking, but instead continued shakily, “He’s always punished Merlin for using his magic, has always been determined to stamp it out. I had hoped,” she stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath, “when Morgana’s Seer abilities manifested, I’d hoped that perhaps Uther’s attitude toward magic might soften. He adores Morgana and has been nothing but supportive of her. I so hoped he might change his beliefs about Merlin’s magic, but… he didn’t.” She sighed, bowing her head briefly, and then looking up again. “He treats it as though it is a perversion, Tristan, and he treats Merlin as though he is a monster who grows even more corrupt every time he uses it.” Her hands were shaking. “It’s never been this bad, before. Usually it’s a spanking, switching, or belting and being sent to bed without his supper. This…” Ygraine shuddered. “He’s never actually… _beat_ Merlin before.”

Tristan had never felt so shocked, so _appalled_. Never once had Ygraine hinted that things were bad between her husband and younger son in her letters to him. He didn’t think she’d written anything of it to Agravaine either, for their older brother had never breathed a word of it to him. Tristan had no illusions about his brother’s more ruthless character, but he truly believed that he would be just as revolted over Uther’s behavior toward young Merlin as he was. The boy was still part de Bois, after all. They were one of the oldest families in Camelot, even if their bloodline wasn’t royal. Certainly they were older than the Pendragons. It was an affront to their family that one of their own was being mistreated by what amounted to an upstart family, regardless of their distant royal connection that had allowed them to claim the throne.

It was… all so shocking. Tristan had seen horrible things over the course of his life, had seen children who had been abused by their fathers. But to think that his brother-in-law, a _king_ , could behave so toward one of his sons, a _prince_ … it was unfathomable.

Licking his lips, he forced himself to ask, “What about Arthur, about Morgana? Has he ever behaved like this toward them?” 

Ygraine shook her head. “He’s always been a strict disciplinarian with Arthur, sometimes a little stricter than I’d like, but never actually… _abusive_.” She seemed to cringe at the very word. “And Morgana…” she trailed off, and then snorted, sounding almost bitter when she continued, “he’s doted on her from the day she came to live with us. He wouldn’t even allow her to be _spanked_ , much less anything worse!”

Tristan blinked at his sister’s descriptions. He didn’t doubt that Uther was strict with Arthur. The boy was his successor, the future king of all he had conquered. Of course he would want to make sure the boy had a spine. But was Ygraine truly _serious_ when she said that Uther didn’t let Morgana be spanked? At all? Even little girls could be naughty and would need to be punished. Ygraine was the perfect example of that - she had generally been a good girl as a child, but had still had her moments of misbehavior and spite, which had required their parents to step in and correct her.

“It’s no different than if Uther was punishing Merlin for having blue eyes,” Ygraine told him, rubbing her forehead wearily. “I’ve never seen such hypocrisy, and I do not know what to do about it. It’s like he is blind to the fact that he is supporting and encouraging magic in one child while wholly rejecting it in the other. He refuses to accept Merlin for how he is.”

Tristan couldn’t bear to see the anguish in his sister’s gaze a moment longer, and looked away. Her words sickened him. How could Uther, how could _any_ father, reject his own flesh and blood? He remembered once thinking that his brother-in-law might lament that his firstborn son looked so entirely like the de Bois’, with little of the Pendragons in his appearance. Merlin, however, was all Pendragon. Tristan remembered Aurelius Pendragon very well, had looked up to him with something like hero-worship as a boy. He wasn’t blind to how much Merlin resembled him. He was all that was good looking and handsome in the Pendragons’ looks. How could Uther reject such a boy?

Tristan found himself without words to comfort his sister. All he could do was squeeze her hand.

And pray that things would get better, somehow.

* * *

Morgana was unused to uncomfortable silences when she was with Uther. For the past four years, she and Uther had always been at ease in each other’s company, delighting in it, even. Though she was no longer tense or uneasy in the queen’s presence, or even in the princes’, Uther still remained her most stalwart companion. He was her cornerstone.

After what she had seen today, though, she couldn’t help but feel troubled. She and Merlin had never been close, she had even disliked him once, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to see him hurt or suffering. And those bruises on his face, the bloody lip, had been distressing, to say the least.

What hurt more, though, was knowing that it was Uther who put them there. Uther, who had never been anything but gentle with her. Uther, who never even raised his voice in her presence. It had been that same man who had laid violent hands on a boy even younger than her.

It all made her wonder. Over the years, Uther had lamented what a disobedient, unruly boy Merlin was and that he had been forced to ‘take him in hand’. Morgana had never thought much of it, assuming that it was simply some minor correction, perhaps sending Merlin to bed without supper or giving him a swat for some misdemeanor. But after what she saw today, it made her wonder about those different instances.

Uther was a warrior, Morgana knew. But what honor was there in overcoming an opponent who had no hope of winning, much less defending oneself?

She picked at the food on her plate. Some of it had been eaten, but it had primarily been out of habit, the long ago lessons taught to her by Alice about taking proper care of oneself echoing in her ears. Her eyes had remained on the plate, but only a little bit of the food had disappeared.

“Morgana?”

This wasn’t the first time Uther had spoken to her tonight, trying to get her to look at him, but Morgana steadfastly refused. She wouldn’t do so until she had reconciled the wonderful man who had filled her world with love to the furious, raging giant that had looked at young Merlin with so much hate…

“Morgana, please,” Uther pleaded, “you have to understand…”

She didn’t get a chance to find out what it was that she ‘had’ to understand. There was a loud, perfunctory knock on the door, and then a knight stepped inside. It was then that Morgana looked up, finding Sir Alvin standing there. He bowed to them both, but his attention was on Uther. “Sire, we have just received a report from the lower town. A man has been killed by a young boy.” Uther didn’t say anything, but he nodded for the knight to continue. “Apparently, the boy’s master was escorting him home and they both caught the man in the act of…” Sir Alvin hesitated, glancing nervously in Morgana’s direction. “… of _violating_ the boy’s sister. The boy killed him for it.”

Horror and nausea swept through Morgana and now she couldn’t help but look at Uther. There was a grim look about him, and he nodded. “Wretched, horrible business,” he said. “See to it that everyone is questioned, and -”

“Forgive me, Sire,” Sir Alvin interrupted, appearing a little nervous over interrupting his king, “but there is more. The boy, you see, he didn’t use a knife or sword to kill the man. He…” Again, the knight hesitated, but then seemed to gather himself, and he continued, “he used _magic_.”

* * *

Arthur could barely comprehend what was happening. So much of his life had been thrown into chaos in the past few days. He had left early on Merlin’s birthday in the company of Sir Bors and a contingent of knights for the purpose of making sure that the food stores were well-stocked with meat for the approaching Yule, and had enjoyed himself immensely. It had been his first time on a formal hunt as a young man considered on his way to adulthood instead of a boy, and Arthur had been thrilled to be treated as such. He had even taken down a buck and a boar, and Sir Bors had expressed his approval for his good aim.

What he had come home to late in the day, had been anything but enjoyable or good. It was Merlin’s birthday, and while Arthur had been sad to miss the majority of it, he had hoped to be able to spend some time with his brother that evening, perhaps join in at the end of the small celebration in the nursery. Instead, he came back into the citadel and was informed that his brother was injured and on bed rest for the rest of the day. After returning his weapons in proper order to the armory and the party’s catch to the skinning areas, Arthur had sought out his mother. He had been shocked to find her not with Merlin, but in her chambers with Uncle Tristan, of all people. His mother had not exactly been informative of what was happening, only that there had been some misunderstanding, and would say no more about it.

Thankfully, Uncle Tristan was more helpful in Arthur’s requests for information.

 

_“Merlin seems to have decided to play a prank,” Uncle Tristan informed him, his expression uncharacteristically grim. They had waited until Arthur’s mother was distracted by her ladies before beginning their conference, and spoke in low tones to avoid being overheard. “He made rose petals rain down from the sky.”_

_Arthur’s eyes widened. “Truly?” He hadn’t thought Merlin would be so brazen with his magic. It wouldn’t surprise him if his brother used his powers to cause little instances of mischief, but something that could actually be_ seen _by everyone in the citadel and possibly even the lower town? That was hardly the best idea, particularly given how… unbending their father was about Merlin’s magic._

_“Yes,” his uncle replied, interrupting his thoughts, “and your father did not take it well.”_

_Arthur didn’t really need to know anything more than that._

 

Of course, his initial thought had been wrong, which Arthur had discovered when he was able to sneak back to the nursery to see his brother. The swollen, scabbed lip, the bruised face, and even the way that Merlin moved all spoke to this being far, far more than Merlin playing a prank.

Arthur hadn’t wanted to leave Merlin alone that night, even with Sir Ector not being far away. Merlin was hardly alone, but Arthur wanted to be there, to keep watch over his little brother. He needed _someone_ to protect him, and no one else seemed to be bothering, he thought bitterly. Their mother was powerless, and could only yell at Father after he’d done something wrong. Morgana was oblivious, couldn’t see beyond the pretty face that Father put on for her, no matter how false it was. Uncle Tristan didn’t know what it was like, and Uncle Agravaine knew even less. 

There was _no one_ who was looking out for Merlin.

Of course, it didn’t work out that way. Sir Ector let him stay with his brother for a time, but then firmly ordered him to his own chambers in the family wing of the citadel. “You are no longer a boy, Prince Arthur,” the older knight told him. “Your place is there, while your brother’s is here.” After a moment, his face softened when he saw Arthur’s gaze switch back to his sleeping brother. “Things will be better in the morning,” the older man added quietly.

Arthur had wanted so badly to believe him, so he’d left. It turned out that Sir Ector was wrong, which he probably should have expected at this point. He wasn’t permitted to attend the council that convened early the following morning, but that didn’t stop Arthur from hearing the gossip of the other squires, the whispers about the boy in the lower town who had killed a man with magic because the man had raped the boy’s sister. 

Many of the other squires seemed fairly certain that the punishment for the boy would be relatively light, given the extenuating circumstances. “I’d have done the same if I caught a man raping my sister,” one of the boys proclaimed as they cleaned their respective knights’ armor. “And that’s if my father didn’t beat me to it.”

Arthur had forced himself to remain quiet on the subject. Privately, he agreed with them. He might not be all that close to Morgana, but he’d rip out a man’s throat if he dared lay a finger on her. What worried him, though, was his father. One never knew how he would react to matters concerning magic. His differing treatment of Morgana and Merlin alone showed that. Given that he’d recently just taken to beating on Merlin instead of just spanking or switching him meant that the king’s emotions were running high.

It won’t be as clear cut as the others believed, Arthur knew that much. 

And of course, he turned out to be right. It was not an auspicious occasion, however.

The sentence was pronounced quickly and efficiently that afternoon, leaving practically everyone stunned. 

Death. By burning.

And that wasn’t the end of it. Mere hours after the announcement, Father insisted that the entire family eat together in his chambers, since Uncle Tristan was currently their guest. It was unusual, certainly, since Arthur could barely recall the last time Father wished to break bread with his wife and sons, preferring to take his meals exclusively with Morgana.

It was not a pleasant experience.

 

_The silence was thick and tense, filled only by the clinking of tableware. Arthur mostly kept his eyes on the plate and food in front of him, but couldn’t help but occasionally glancing around at those who also sat at the table._

_His father sat at the head of the table, the only one who seemed unaffected by the silence. He ate his food heartily, and didn’t seem to be thinking of his earlier verdict at all, as if it meant nothing to him. Arthur couldn’t say the same for the rest of them. His mother sat on his father’s right, determinedly eating her food, but doing so with little enthusiasm. Morgana sat across from her, appearing to share his mother’s resolve to eat, but she too did so without any real interest. Arthur himself sat next to Morgana, but his attention quickly switched to the last two people present at the table._

_Uncle Tristan sat next to his twin sister, directly across from Arthur. He was taking a drink from his goblet, but Arthur could see his eyes almost constantly sweeping the table. He looked almost… confused. Arthur didn’t know what the older man expected - a perfectly happy family?_

_That left Merlin, sitting on their uncle’s left, the furthest away from their father. Arthur wondered if the servants had set that up on their own initiative, or if Father had ordered it. Merlin, like their mother and Morgana, was focusing on his food with a single-minded drive. It was like he was trying to make himself as small as possible, to avoid being noticed by anyone._

_Naturally, it was then that Father decided to actually deign to notice him. “Merlin.”_

_Merlin flinched, and Arthur ground his teeth as he watched his brother look up toward their father at the head of the table. “Majesty?” That actually made Arthur blink and his anger recede a little. Their father had never been ‘Papa’ by any means, usually called ‘Father’ or ‘my lord’, but never that. Arthur couldn’t help but think that it meant _something_ , though he didn’t know what exactly._

_Whatever it meant, their father didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he merely said, “Your presence will be required for the execution tomorrow.”_

_It was Morgana who gasped the loudest, though Arthur still heard his mother’s sharp intake of air. Glancing around again, he saw now that all of them were staring at his father. Gaping, actually. Even Tristan was staring at him, shocked and even a little appalled._

_“Uther, I’m not -” Uncle Tristan started, only to be cut off by his sister’s even louder denial. “No!”_

_His father only seemed to hear the latter, and he shot an annoyed look at Mother. “He’s been shielded long enough, Ygraine. It’s time he faced the world’s realities as a man, instead of being coddled and protected like a sniveling child.”_

_Arthur saw the fury in his mother’s eyes; it was an expression he was becoming well used to seeing._

 

The meal had only gone downhill from there. Father hadn’t wanted Morgana to attend the execution, suggesting that she was ‘tired’ and thus was excused from witnessing the burning. In turn, Mother had grown even more angry over such blatant favoritism and had said that if Morgana was really a member of their family, as Father was always insisting, then should she not also be present to provide a completely united front in the name of Camelot’s justice?

Arthur was sure that the rage, the bitterness, in his mother’s voice would haunt him for a long, long time.

Suffice to say, his father hadn’t backed down, and now here the four of them stood, on the balcony overlooking the citadel’s courtyard. Father stood in the center, with Mother on his right and Arthur on his left. Merlin had silently assumed a spot beside Arthur and had not said a word since he’d appeared.

Arthur looked down at the courtyard, staring at the pyre that had been erected in the center. Bundles of sticks lay all around the platform brought out especially for the deed. Hundreds of the citizens had already come in through the gates to watch what was to come.

They didn’t have to wait long for the ordeal to begin.

* * *

Merlin’s heart pounded in his ears. He’d been shocked, disconnected from the world since the night before, when Uther had commanded his attendance for this… injustice. He was standing on the balcony with his family, but he barely registered their presence. They may as well have been statues once the guards dragged the prisoner out into the courtyard.

He looked down at the boy who was being guided ever closer to the waiting pyre, and Merlin’s heart lurched. He was fairly tall, skinny, with bright, fair hair. From this distance, he looked like Arthur, though Merlin could not tell if the boy had blue eyes. Still, what little he could make out was enough, and he shuddered.

A hand grasped his own, squeezing it tightly. Merlin glanced to his left and saw his brother giving him a keen, searching look. “Do not let them see you cry, brother,” Arthur murmured quietly. “You must stay strong, and show no weakness.”

In his mind, Merlin knew the words were well-meant, and yet he couldn’t help but be stung by them. What was going on here was nothing short of murder, and they both knew it. Uther had ordered this boy’s death _just to prove a point_. Though what that point was, Merlin didn’t really want to think about it. How was he supposed to be untouched by it? 

Besides, he’d already sworn he wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t give Uther that kind of satisfaction, of knowing that he’d hurt him. 

The guards had made short work of tying the boy to the top of the pyre before stepping off of it. It was then that the people turned to the balcony, their eyes on their king. Merlin tensed, and waited.

Uther didn’t wait long. “I have long striven to be a good and just king to all of my subjects, to those who carry the ability of magic and to those who do not,” he said in loud, ringing tones that echoed through the courtyard despite the large crowd. “Never have I persecuted or used unjustly those with the ability to do more than their neighbors.”

Merlin wanted to laugh. Who knew the king could lie so well? Or perhaps he didn’t see all that he’d subjected his son to over the years as persecution. Merlin snorted silently.

“But there must be firm limits. There must be boundaries. Those who have magic cannot take the law into their own hands, simply because they have the power to do so.” Uther gave them all his best, sternest glare. “For the crime of murder by sorcery, no matter the circumstances, there is but one sentence I can pass.” He turned toward the pyre. “Arden Smithson, for your crime you are hereby sentenced to death, by fire.”

There was a long, horrible moment of silence. Merlin could see everyone turning their gaze toward the boy, Arden. He had a name, Merlin realized. A name, an identity. A family. They all seemed to expect him to say something, anything, to fill that silence.

But he didn’t. As Merlin looked at him more closely, he saw that Arden seemed to have fixed his attention on someone in the crowd, and was ignoring the rest of them. He wondered if the boy even knew that they were there, or what was about to happen.

Merlin didn’t see Uther raise his arm and bring it down, but he did see the half-dozen guards step forward with torches in their gloved hands. He saw them rear back, and then throw the torches onto the wood. The smoke began immediately, and it was quickly followed by the flames. They must have picked wood that would light up quickly. 

The smoke quickly obscured Arden from Merlin’s view, but his ears still worked perfectly well. It was the coughing that he heard first, Arden choking on the smoke that was billowing up around him faster and faster, thicker and thicker. Then, as the flames rose higher, Merlin could hear Arden grunting, could see the pole he was tied to jerking. The boy was moving, despite his restraints, trying to avoid the flames that were licking up closer and closer to him. But there was no escape.

When Arden screamed at last, he wasn’t the only one. Despite the rolling of his stomach, Merlin was able to focus on the crowd of onlookers and see someone scuffling, struggling toward the pyre. It took him only a moment to see that it was a girl, a young woman perhaps a few years older than Morgana. Even from his vantage point, Merlin could see the bruises on her skin, the scabs on her face, and the now familiar fair hair.

This was Arden’s sister, the one the boy had used his magic to rescue. Merlin didn’t need anyone to tell him to know it. He could only watch as the girl hurled herself toward the flames, only to be grabbed by urgent, frantic hands, holding her back. Merlin wasn’t aware of anything beyond the mingled of two siblings torn apart by the sins of others. 

Then, slowly, it became just one person screaming, and it wasn’t Arden. The girl howled like a wounded animal as the flames engulfed her brother altogether, collapsing to the ground just as the pole and Arden’s smoking corpse also fell as cinders into the pyre beneath them. 

The smell was… there were no words to describe how horrible it was. He knew that it would be a long, long time before he would be able to stomach pork, if he ever would again. His eyes remained on the pyre, where once a young boy had stood. Now there was only ash and flame.

Merlin vaguely heard Uther speak again, but the words did not penetrate his mind. He had no wish for them to. The man had said more than enough. Merlin only knew he had to get out, had to get away from everyone. As the guards and other members of the council who had been standing off to the side of the royal family began to disperse, Merlin jerked his hand out of Arthur’s  his brother had never let go of him throughout this ordeal, but Merlin hadn’t noticed until then  and strode away. He’d not stay another moment. He didn’t want anyone near him right now.

He needed to think.

* * *

Ygraine could feel her hands and arms shaking as she watched the crowd below her slowly disperse. She could barely take her eyes off of the weeping young woman in the courtyard, watching her kneel before the raging inferno that had consumed her brother. This… this had not been justice, this had been barbarism. Her husband had just murdered a child.

When had he become capable of such a thing? Years ago, when she had married him, she’d known that Uther was a warrior, hard and ruthless when he had to be, but never, never had she believed him able to use his prerogative as a king to actually kill someone as a punishment that was wholly unfitting to the circumstances of the crime. 

A _child_. A child had been _burned alive_ to send a message to another child.

Ygraine wanted to scream. She wanted to lunge at Uther, shrieking and clawing at his face until he understood just what he had just done. But then she thought of her younger son, the one who had been ordered to witness this travesty… by his own father. Ignoring her husband on her left, she turned, seeking out Merlin. All she saw was Arthur, who looked rather grey and grim and angry himself. She rested her hand on his shoulder, concerned, but she asked only, “Arthur, where is your brother?”

He gazed into her eyes - not up into her eyes, because he was now reaching her own height and when had that actually happened? - and she saw her own rage reflected in his eyes. “Gone,” he said shortly. Then, before Ygraine could say anything further, his eyes shifted to something over his shoulder. 

Before she could turn, she heard Uther say, “The boy should return to the nursery. Sir Ector can resume his instruction.” He sounded perfectly detached, completely indifferent to what had just happened. 

Ygraine could stand no more. She whirled, uncaring that anyone nearby might hear what she was about to say, wanting only to tear her husband to shreds, but was abruptly cut off when Arthur darted in front of her, glaring at Uther.

“Would you do this to Merlin?” he hissed. “Would you execute Merlin if he used magic to kill a man who violated Morgana?”

The words were like a blow to Ygraine’s chest, but what came next was even worse. Naked horror crossed Uther’s expression, and for a brief, wild moment, she thought he was genuinely aghast at the suggestion that he’d execute his own flesh and blood child. But then that horror was replaced by anger and he snapped, “Be quiet, boy. How can you even _think_ of such a thing happening to Morgana?”

He said nothing of the rest of his son’s question, of Merlin. Just turned on his heel and stormed off the balcony, leaving Ygraine and Arthur standing there.

The combination of the lingering smell of smoke and burnt flesh and her own horror made Ygraine’s stomach heave just a little. It didn’t help when that horror began to change into something far, far worse  terror.

He… Uther _wouldn’t_ , would he? He wouldn’t… burn his child for using magic? But he’d said nothing, only scolded Arthur’s reference to Morgana.

That could only mean… _he would_. Ygraine nearly collapsed under the blow of the thought, her knees wobbling. Strong hands, more than one set, immediately grasped her shoulders and began to lead her slowly, carefully back inside. She was faintly aware of being guided through the corridors and eventually coming back to her chambers which were, thankfully, empty. As she was gently pushed down into a chair and a goblet of wine appeared in front of her, Ygraine looked up to see both her oldest son and her brother were with her.

She sipped on the wine gratefully, leaning against the back of her chair. As Ygraine breathed slowly and deeply, attempting to regain her composure, she became aware of Arthur’s voice. 

“… not justice in any form! How could he? And Merlin! He was too young!” She glanced in her son’s direction, and saw the fury in his eyes, the loathing. “Has he gone mad, Mother? Has the king lost all sense?”

Ygraine knew she should scold her son for speaking of his father like that, but she had neither the strength nor the will. Neither did her brother, for that matter. In truth, after Arthur’s outburst, none of them had the desire to say much of anything. They ended up sitting together in morbid silence for some time, interrupted only when a small contingent of servants came in, bearing the afternoon meal. There was no pork, thank goodness. It was all she could do to stand to eat the lamb.

They ate in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, though Ygraine couldn’t exactly say that it was a welcome situation. Her husband had implied that he was willing to _kill_ their child. 

She’d known that relations between Uther and Merlin were not the best, were deplorable in fact, but this? This news put an entirely different perspective on Uther’s view of their son. He had always been quick to stamp out any sign of magic in Merlin, and had never been polite about it either. Then there was the horrible beating Uther had unleashed on their son just days ago. Was this another sign of escalation in Uther’s behavior? 

Well, Ygraine thought, whether it was or not, the fact remained that her son’s life was in danger. From his own father.

And she had no idea where he was.

Eventually, Tristan and Arthur had left Ygraine to her own devices, long after the food had been cleared away. Aine had been wonderful in keeping her ladies occupied, letting Ygraine focus on her own thoughts. However, not long after her eldest son and brother departed, there was a quiet, timid knock on her door. Surprised, Ygraine called, “Enter.”

It was Merlin, and something in Ygraine shuddered with relief. He was here. He’d come back from wherever he’d vanished to. With barely a conscious thought, Ygraine pushed herself to her feet and hurried across the room, catching him in a firm embrace and burying her face in his hair for a brief moment.

He returned the embrace, but without the urgency that she had exhibited on her part. When Ygraine pulled back, trying to ignore the scent of smoke that lingered on his clothing, she tried to suppress a distressed gasp when she caught a look at his face. His skin was so pale it was almost white, no doubt from being out of doors for a long period of time. It was nearly Yule, for goodness’ sake! Being outside for too long at this time of year had killed many men stronger than her son.

“Merlin,” she said, “what is wrong?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Ygraine wished she could retract them. Such a foolish question! After what he had seen today, what _wasn’t_ wrong?

He looked up and met her gaze, and not for the first time, she was struck by his eyes. They were such a deep, unfathomable blue, so unlike her own. Even now, she could not look into those eyes and easily discern his secrets, like she could so easily with Arthur. Merlin’s heart was ever guarded, even from her.

“I have to leave, Mother,” was his simple reply. “I can’t stay here anymore.” His eyes drifted toward the window, and a small shiver swept through his thin frame. “I have to get out before I do something bad and not regret it.”

Perhaps that was the first time Ygraine had ever heard her younger son actually say something even vaguely threatening toward her husband.

* * *

After the execution, Uther spent much of his time contemplating what to do next. Though he took his meals with Morgana as he always did, he was afraid that his attention was not entirely focused on her. Instead, his thoughts remained on his younger son. The boy had turned thirteen years old, and was fast going to be too old to be in the care of a governor. Uther had no confidence that he would ever become a warrior like Arthur, and thus would not be a threat to his older brother, but that still left the question of what to do with the boy. He could hardly leave him to be spoiled even further in his wife’s care.

There was an obvious solution, of course. Uther had even thought of it on occasion over the years. In nearly all noble families, the sons of their houses were sent to serve with other families, to learn and build alliances. While he had always hesitated to send his eldest son and heir out of Camelot and place him where he might be influenced by undesirable individuals, he had never felt such hesitation with his younger son. It had really only been Ygraine’s implacable refusal that had stopped him. She insisted on clinging to the boy and Uther had never felt like fighting with her on the matter. 

Perhaps it was now time to change that, to take a firm stand and inform his wife that things were going to have to change. 

With that determination in mind, Uther moved quickly. He sent a servant to invite his wife to join him for a private breakfast the following morning, just the two of them. This was not a conversation for the children or anyone else to hear. 

Ygraine was prompt when she arrived the next morning in his chambers, but her eyes were guarded and wary. Even when he exercised every courtesy toward her, the suspicion did not leave her eyes whenever she looked at him. It was rather frustrating, that his own wife was so distrustful of him. Surely she saw that everything he did for their family was for the best?

It wasn’t until they were nearing the end of their meal that he spoke up about Merlin. “He’s thirteen years old now,” Uther began. Ygraine placed her goblet down and stared at him, raising an eyebrow. There was… _something_ in her eyes, and Uther couldn’t help but feel that she wanted to say something cutting, but seemed to be holding herself back. Again, irritation swept through him, but nonetheless, Uther forged ahead. 

“He can’t sit in Camelot and be coddled for the rest of his years,” he told her. “It would make him worse than useless, and it’s hardly the most fulfilling life for any young man.” Holding his gaze steady, he met her eyes with his own. “I think it’s time that he is fostered out.” He saw her open her mouth and quickly held up his hand, forestalling what was surely to be a litany of objections. “The boy isn’t a child anymore, Ygraine. It’s time,” he said in his most implacable, unmovable tone. He would not back down on this.

It was time for Merlin to be someone else’s problem. It was time for Uther to live his life without having his older brother stare out at him from a child’s eyes.

* * *

Tristan strode down the corridors toward his sister’s chambers. He had gone to them earlier that morning, only to find her ladies present, one of which informed him that Ygraine was breaking her fast with Uther. That had surprised Tristan. Ygraine’s prevailing emotion toward her husband these days seemed to either be anger or disgust. Why would she share a meal with him? He’d expected her to either eat with her ladies, or perhaps go to the nursery to join Merlin.

When he knocked on the door, it opened to reveal Ygraine’s chief lady, Aine. He was surprised when he stepped inside to find just her and Ygraine present. Where had all of the ladies gone since he’d last been there?

Tristan didn’t a chance to ask about it. The moment he approached his sister, she immediately grasped his arm, saying frantically, “I need your help, brother. I need it now. We have to hurry,” she was almost babbling at this point, “before it’s too late, before he -”

Alarmed, led his sister over to the table and helped her into a chair. “Ygraine, sister,” he said soothingly, “slow down. What’s happened?”

Aine appeared at that moment, carrying a goblet which she then handed to Ygraine. Then, like the efficient woman she clearly was, Aine swept out of the room, securing the door behind her and leaving the two of them alone. Tristan turned his attention back to Ygraine, watching her sip on the wine. Her hand was shaking and her eyes were red-rimmed. Briefly, he thought she might actually be inebriated. Once she sat the goblet down, he said, “Now, what is going on?”

Taking a slow, shaking breath, she said, “Uther… he wants to foster Merlin out.”

Tristan blinked. That was it? That was what she was so upset about? Thinking about it, he thought it might not be such a horrible idea. Some distance between Uther and his youngest son might do them both some good. If the boy was able to get away from the oppressiveness of his father’s watch, he might gain some confidence, which would probably do wonders for his fighting ability. It would also be good for Uther too - once the boy was out of his sight, he probably would no longer be so eager to pick a fight with Ygraine over Merlin.

“It’ll be horrible, I know it,” Ygraine continued, unaware of his thoughts. Anger and bitterness spread across her face. “He’ll no doubt pick a noble who is just as against magic as he is, and there are many of them. He’ll tell them to be harsh with him, to squash anything that even hints of magic. They’ll destroy him so thoroughly and then God only knows what Merlin will do.” Despair colored her tone. “A child as powerful as he is who feels he has nothing left to lose can be a danger to all of us, but particularly the one responsible for his suffering.”

Tristan stared at her. “You really think he would do such a thing? You think he would choose someone who would deliberately mistreat Merlin? He is a prince of Camelot, after all.”

She snorted, the bitterness returning to the surface. “It hasn’t stopped Uther, why should he want it to stop whoever stands in his stead?” Ygraine sighed, rubbing her forehead wearily. After a moment, she finally looked up and met his gaze. “I do have an idea, but I’ll need your help.”

He nodded slowly. “If I can, I will.”

Ygraine smiled at him weakly. “I hope so,” she replied. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I want you to volunteer to foster Merlin. You’re the only one I trust with him.”

Letting her request sink in, Tristan found that he wasn’t really all that shocked by it. It made some sort of sense, really. He was her brother, her twin, and one of the two senior members of the de Bois house. He had also been a favorite of both her sons when they had been young, and Tristan had returned that feeling. His nephews were both good boys, and had the makings of good men, if they were treated right. Tristan would by no means cosset or spoil the boy - there was no room for that kind of thing on the borders of the kingdom - but neither would he go out of the way to crush the boy’s spirit like Uther seemed hell-bent on doing. 

A hard, cynical laugh escaped her lips, interrupting Tristan’s thoughts. “It was so strange,” Ygraine commented, her eyes bleak. “Just last night Merlin told me that he had to leave, had to get out of Camelot and away from his father. Then this morning, Uther says that Merlin has to go.” She laughed again, though it was a cold sound that brought no mirth to him. “It must be the first time they have ever agreed on something.”

It twisted his heart, to see Ygraine so hopeless like this. Tristan remembered when she had first married Uther. It hadn’t been an initial love match, by any means. Uther had needed the de Bois family’s backing for his bid to take Camelot’s throne, and the best way to bind the two houses together had been through marriage. Ygraine had been the perfect medium, and when Agravaine had informed her, she hadn’t hesitated to do her duty for their family. But later, Tristan had noticed a gradual change between Ygraine and her husband. Though Uther had always been perfectly kind and respectful of her, his behavior grew… tender, was perhaps the best word to describe it. And Ygraine, her eyes seemed to sparkle whenever she looked in her husband’s direction, and her lips would curl into a tiny, special smile just for him.

Ygraine and Uther had fallen in love in those early years, and had been devoted to each other. Now, though, the gulf between them was impossibly wide, and filled with so much animosity that Tristan didn’t think anything could ever bridge it again. How had this happened? What had changed? 

He sighed inwardly. In the end, Tristan supposed, it didn’t matter. His sister needed his help. Finally, he nodded. “Very well, sister.”

The relief that spread over her still-beautiful features was almost heartbreaking. “Thank you, Tristan,” she said, her tone breathy with gratitude. She reached out and squeezed his hands in her own. “Thank you.”

They sat in the silence of relief for several moments, until another shadow passed over Ygraine’s face. “Now we just have to convince Uther to agree. He might not if he thinks you’re doing this on my behalf. He might think you’ll coddle Merlin at my insistence.”

A grim smile passed over Tristan’s lips and he squeezed her hands back. “Leave Uther to me,” he told her reassuringly. “I will handle him.”

He had never denied his sister anything. For her, he’d walk through fire and death.

He’d do no less for the son she loved.

* * *

Arthur was at a loss as to what to do. It was the one day of the week that he actually had some true free time from his duties as Sir Bors’ squire, and while part of him longed to spend it with the other squires, he had known that Merlin needed him far more. His brother had witnessed one of the ugliest things in the world - death. And it had not been any kind of good or honorable death. Not someone who had died in service to the kingdom, not someone who had died after a long, well-lived life.

It had been murder made legal by the will of the king. Their father.

But Merlin wasn’t responding like he expected. Arthur had expected anger, had expected questions, maybe even tears. Merlin had such a soft, kind heart, and even though Arthur had encouraged him not to cry on the balcony yesterday, it was different when it was in private. Here in the nursery, which had been their home for so long, they could let go.

Merlin wasn’t letting go, though. He was quiet, solemn. His eyes were distant, almost always drawn to the window. Perhaps for the first time, Arthur was grateful that the nursery didn’t overlook the courtyard. He didn’t know what he’d do if his brother had to see that pyre every time he looked out.

Still, that didn’t change the fact that Merlin _was_ reacting. He just sat there, a book in hand that he wasn’t reading. His eyes had taken on that far away expression. Merlin’s body was here, but his soul, everything that made Arthur’s brother _him_ , had seemingly fled. 

The sound of approaching footsteps made Arthur look up and away from his unresponsive brother. There was more than one set coming toward them. Heavy footsteps, he realized, which meant that it likely wasn’t his mother. Men. But who?

The sound of footsteps was then joined with that of clinking armor and chain mail and for one, terrifying moment, Arthur remembered the previous day when his father hadn’t denied that he would ever execute Merlin for his magic. Had Father changed his mind? There were no words to describe the fear Arthur felt in that moment and he looked franticly around, desperately seeking a place where he might hide his brother, keep the guards and knights from dragging Merlin to the dungeons to meet his fate on a pyre -

The door opened and it was his father, just as Arthur feared. But there were no guards with him, but Uncle Tristan and Mother. It had been Uncle Tristan’s armor that he’d heard. Arthur felt his knees tremble with sudden relief. No one had come to take his brother away to be burned alive.

The arrival of the adults appeared to draw Merlin back to himself. When he took notice of them, he quickly got to his feet and fell into place on Arthur’s right, bowing courteously. “Majesties, my lord uncle,” Merlin murmured. Arthur stiffened, realizing he hadn’t said anything to greet them and hurriedly echoed his brother.

Father didn’t seem to notice the tension. If anything, he looked impatient or even irritated that he was even there. Barely looking in their direction, he said abruptly, “Merlin, you’re at an age where you no longer need to be consigned to the nursery. Most boys of your age and station are fostered out to other worthy families so that you may learn the duties and responsibilities of noblemen. To that end, your uncle here has graciously agreed to take you in hand.” Now he paused to actually _look_ at Merlin directly, and there was something in Father’s eyes that seemed both ominous and eager to Arthur. “I trust you will not disappoint him with any improper behavior or disgrace our family?”

Much to Arthur’s shock, Merlin didn’t look away, avoiding their father’s attention and gaze as he always did. Instead, a strange gleam entered Merlin’s eyes and he stared right back. “I shall do my best to bring honor to those I love, Sire.” The words sounded so odd, so adult coming from Merlin’s mouth. Arthur didn’t know what to make of it. It was so _unlike_ him.

Father seemed satisfied with Merlin’s words. A short, abrupt nod, and he turned on his heel to walk back out the door, leaving the four of them alone. There was a short silence and then Merlin spoke again. “Is… is it true?” he asked, suddenly sounding tentative and unsure, and much more like himself. Gone was that distant, unearthly Merlin that had made Arthur so nervous. “Do you really want me… to…” Merlin trailed off uncertainly. 

Uncle Tristan nodded and, for a moment, his expression softened. “Yes, nephew, I do. You need some experience outside of this citadel, and I… could use some family company.” His face then grew stern and he gave Merlin a severe look. “I do expect hard work out of you. Sloth and laziness have no place out on the borders of the kingdom. Everyone must pull their own weight. I expect much from you, son of my sister. Will you rise to the occasion like a true de Bois would?”

A gleam of… something flickered in Merlin’s eyes, and Arthur wondered if he even still knew that Arthur and their mother were even there. “Yes, my lord uncle. I will not let you down.”

Their uncle said nothing for several moments, merely staring at Merlin with a strictly assessing gaze. Then he nodded shortly and struck out his hand. Merlin took it, gripping the older man’s arm. It was the exchange of warriors in common cause. Arthur had never seen Merlin do it before, never even knew he knew about it. Where had he learned such a thing? Sir Ector hadn’t taught it, to either of them.

It was then that Arthur glanced at his mother, who hadn’t said a word since she’d arrived in the nursery. Her eyes were riveted on Uncle Tristan and Merlin, and they shone bright with tears.

That was when it hit Arthur, what was actually going on. His brother was leaving Camelot. Arthur knew that boys like them were often fostered - his fellow squires all were fosterlings here in Camelot, nominally in his father’s care but really in the care of the knight they were assigned to - but Arthur himself hadn’t been. Father had insisted that he stay and learn all he needed to know here in Camelot. The fact he was not sent away had left him with the impression that Merlin wouldn’t leave either. Perhaps he’d just assumed that princes didn’t get put into the care of noblemen beneath them in stature, even if they were family like Uncle Tristan.

He was wrong, though. Merlin was leaving and, as Arthur watched him, he was actually _happy_ about it. Thrilled, even. 

Arthur knew his brother had suffered here in Camelot. Merlin’s lot had not been an easy one. Father had seen to that. But watching Merlin chatter away with their uncle, asking question after question, still hurt more than he could really say. 

And if his mother’s expression was anything to go by, he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

* * *

It was all done so quickly that Ygraine didn’t really have much time to process it all. Once Tristan had convinced Uther to let him take Merlin with him - her brother had been determinedly quiet on just _how_ he had accomplished that feat  it was as though Uther couldn’t hustle the two of them out of Camelot fast enough. Uther even decided to throw a feast in honor of their departure, as if it would make them leave all the quicker.

Ygraine had barely restrained herself from slapping him when he informed her of that.

This bewildering, fast-paced change wasn’t helped by Merlin’s obvious excitement. He had thrown himself into the preparations for his leave-taking, insisting on helping the servants pack his trunk. Gone was the vacant, traumatized child that had watched a boy who could have been his brother burn and then declared he _must_ leave home or go mad, and in his place was a bouncing, overexcited boy. 

It struck her, hard, that she had not seen her boy this happy in _years_.

Since the feast was, technically, in honor of Merlin’s departure into Tristan’s fosterage, he was allowed to attend instead of being shut off in the nursery. But unlike when Arthur had been allowed pride of place next to his father on his birthday just months before, Merlin was seated between Ygraine, who sat on her husband’s right, and Tristan, who sat at the end of the high table. Arthur and Morgana sat on Uther’s left.

Ygraine ate some of the food in front of her, but tasted little of it. She had no appetite, truthfully. That didn’t stop those around her. Merlin was eating happily, enjoying some of the treats he was normally not permitted in the nursery, though she was pleased that he still ate some of the healthier foods available at the table without prompting from either her or Tristan. His diet in the nursery had developed good habits for him, and she was hopeful they would remain with him once he was out of her care.

Finally, after some time had passed and everyone seemed to have eaten their fill, Uther stood, his goblet in hand. He raised it up and said, “To Lord Tristan de Bois, the brother of my beloved wife. He has undertaken a great duty, in seeing to the education and upbringing of his new charge. May he succeed in this solemn endeavor.”

The nobles present all raised their own goblets, echoing their king’s toast. No one seemed to find anything amiss by it, except for Ygraine. Even now, on the eve of their son’s departure, Uther could not bring himself to offer a kind word for him. She clenched her hand around her goblet and, unable to help herself, she stood, raising it up. “To Prince Merlin,” she said in loud, ringing tones. “May he find his place in the world, and return home to bring all honors to Camelot.”

It was unusual for Ygraine to make any kind of toast, but by no means unprecedented. Thankfully, the nobles didn’t look in askance at her abrupt speech, but followed the toast obediently. She could feel Uther stiffen in displeasure beside her, but Ygraine ignored him, instead focusing on the beaming smile of her Merlin beside her.

He would leave tomorrow, she knew. Tristan planned to go early, and Merlin would be with him, sitting sleepily but tall on his own horse. Ygraine would stand on the steps of the citadel with her husband, her other son, and her stepdaughter, and watch them go. Merlin would ride away with his uncle to seek a safe haven where he could grow into the best man he could be, away from the poisoning influence of his father’s prejudice and neglect. She would not see him again, not for months or even years. He would write to her, she knew, because he had promised to do so, for her and Arthur both, but it would not be the same by any means. 

He would return, though. Ygraine knew this with the certainty of a mother who knows her child. She could almost see it, could picture him riding toward Camelot, a tall, handsome young man. Perhaps he would even be accompanied by a friend, a comrade-in-arms who would watch his back no matter what. Whatever happened, though, Ygraine knew Merlin would come back. Camelot was his destiny, in one form another.

As she sat back down in her chair, Ygraine looked at Merlin again. His face was alive with joy as he chatted animatedly with his uncle, his eyes alight with curiosity as he asked about life in Tristan’s lands near the border. There was no sadness there, not now.

For now, Ygraine would be the gracious queen, the doting mother that everyone required her to be at the moment. Tonight, though, when she was inevitably alone in her bed, she would weep for the loss of her miracle baby. She knew it was the fate of every mother to let her children go, so that they might grow into good, responsible adults, but that knowledge made the separation no easier to bear. Uther got to keep Morgana - there were certainly no signs of him having any desire whatsoever to marry her off to one of the nobles who were constantly hinting that they were interested in her hand in marriage - but Ygraine was forced to let go of her darling child. The unfairness of it all grated.

But no one would see that pain in her face. Ygraine had her pride, so she would wait until she was alone. Her tears were meant for no one else to see.


	7. Epilogue

The silence in the bed chamber was a long one, interrupted only by the faint crackling of the fire. The grandfather was leaning back in his chair, his shoulders slumped in a weary stoop. Similarly, the boy’s eyes were drooping, showing his own exhaustion.

His mouth widening in a yawn that was entirely unfeigned, the grandfather cleared his throat and said, “I think perhaps that is enough for tonight. Time to sleep, my boy.”

The boy straightened up, blinking his eyes rapidly as though trying to chase away his fatigue. “No!” he protested. “That can’t be all of it!”

The older man paused in his intention to stand up from his seat and looked at his grandson. A faint smile crossed his lips. “Why can’t it?” he asked.

“Because, because,” the boy sputtered, “it just _can’t_! Merlin went off to foster with Tristan de Bois, and Arthur was a squire. There _has_ to be more! Arthur isn’t king yet, and Merlin isn’t his advisor! That _can’t_ be the end, it just can’t!”

The grandfather’s entertained expression fell away, and the grandson was still awake to notice it. Amusement vanished, only be replaced with something far more different. Grief, absolute devastation. A chill ran through the boy.

“Oh no, my boy,” the old man said quietly. “That wasn’t the end. That was only the beginning.”

 

**END PART ONE**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I have to thank [Regan X](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ReganX/pseuds/ReganX), who served as sounding board, beta, cheerleader, and all-around hand-holder for the entire time that I worked on this story. Without her, this story would never have made it past the first chapter. Heck, it probably would never have made it past the prologue. Thank you, thank you so much, my dear, for seeing me through this whole process and for helping me especially in these last frantic days as I struggled to get the last of this tale written down. I dedicate this entire story to you. 
> 
> I'd also like to thank [aaweth_edain](http://aaweth-edain.livejournal.com/) for her lovely artwork made especially for the story. It's all so wonderful! A complete page of the art pieces can be found [here](http://aaweth-edain.livejournal.com/23994.html).
> 
> In truth, when I began to develop this story, the ideas quickly began to spin out of control, and I began to see that I would never be able to incorporate everything into one story, not in just six months. As a result, this story is merely the first in a series. There will be at least two that follow it. This is just the beginning, but it's a beginning that I hope you all enjoyed.


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